“Do you see this word here? This we must avoid.” Her index finger, its nail painted red, rested on the word that was to be avoided; she didn’t say it aloud, and when he did, she snorted. “Everyone knows by now who we mean when we write ‘alien’ or ‘minority.’ We mustn’t let ourselves be associated with the rabble, like those in the Christian Front.”

He nodded sympathetically.

“The same goes for Hitler.”

“What do we put instead?” he asked carefully.

“‘Führer,’” she said with a clear voice.

“‘Führer,’” he repeated.

“Alternately, we can also write ‘the George Washington of Germany and Europe.’ Or ‘the humanitarian and bringer of peace.’”

He nodded, as if he were making mental notes. Mrs. Dollings was now writing on the flyer, crossing things out and making corrections. “We now say ‘new leadership’ instead of ‘revolution’ and ‘save America first’ instead of ‘Heil Hitler.’”

He actually had nothing to do with the content, and that was important to him. He just fed everything into the mimeograph machine. Normally he didn’t make deliveries either, only when a new delivery boy had to be trained. Maybe she was confusing him with Arthur? Arthur who was full of understanding and always showed interest. Sometimes when Josef went into his office while he was on the phone, his boss would roll his eyes. “Why do we print the stuff, then?” Josef had asked once.

“Why? I have to make sure the money adds up so I can pay all of you,” replied Arthur.

“You must be very proud of your country, Joe. Have you thought of going back?”

“Back? I’m an American.”

Mrs. Dollings raised an eyebrow and smiled inquisitively. “You mustn’t misunderstand me. We are so full of admiration for the Führer!”

“Not everyone is. The New York Times for example, they aren’t.”

She looked at him without a word, then she nodded to the housemaid. “Let me help you find the door, Mr. Klein.” Josef felt her watching him as he stiffly left the room.

The truth was, in the beginning he actually was proud. He had written his brother a letter and congratulated him on the strongman who was helping Germany to assume a new significant role in Europe. The papers were saying the same thing then. But Carl wasn’t having it. He never wrote a word in response.

A thin layer of fresh snow covered the street. The boy kept trying to find spots where there were no footsteps. The cart lurched from side to side. He really was just a child still.