1
Fräulein Pfaff came to the breakfast-table a little late in a grey stuff dress with a cream-coloured ruching about the collar-band and ruchings against her long brown wrists. The girls were already in their places, and as soon as grace was said she began talking in a gentle decisive voice.
“Martins’ sponge-bags”—her face creased for her cavernous smile—“are both large and strong—beautiful gummi-bags, each large enough to contain a family of sponges.”
The table listened intently. Miriam tried to remember the condition of her side of the garret. She saw Judy’s scarlet flush across the table.
“Millie,” went on Fräulein, “is the owner of a damp-proof hold-all for the bath which is a veritable monument.”
“Monument?” laughed a German voice apprehensively.
“Fancy a monument on your washstand,” tittered Jimmie.
Fräulein raised her voice slightly, still smiling. Miriam heard her own name and stiffened. “Miss Henderson is an Englishwoman too—and our little Ulrica joins the English party.” Fräulein’s voice had thickened and grown caressing. Perhaps no one was in trouble. Ulrica bowed. Her wide-open startled eyes and the outline of her pale face remained unchanged. Still gentle and tender-voiced Fräulein reached Judy and the Germans. All was well. Soaps and sponges could go in the English bags. Judy’s downcast crimson face began to recover its normal clear flush, and the Germans joined in the general rejoicing. They were to go, Miriam gathered, in the afternoon to the baths.... She had never been to a public baths.... She wished Fräulein could know there were two bathrooms in the house at Barnes, and then wondered whether in German baths one was left to oneself or whether there, too, there would be some woman superintending.
Fräulein jested softly on about her children and their bath. Gertrude and Jimmie recalled incidents of former bathings—the stories went on until breakfast had prolonged itself into a sitting of happy adventurers. The room was very warm, and coffee-scented. Clara at her corner sat with an outstretched arm nearly touching Fräulein Pfaff who was sitting forward glowing and shedding the light of her dark young eyes on each in turn. There were many elbows on the table. Judy’s head was raised and easy. Miriam noticed that the whiteness of her neck was whiter than those strange bright patches where her eyelashes shone. Ulrica’s eyes went from face to face as she listened and Miriam fed upon the outlines of her head.
She wished she could place her hands on either side of its slenderness and feel the delicate skull and gaze undisturbed into the eyes.