“Then why is he angry?” But even as Lucy asked the question she knew the answer. “Is it because of Bob?” she faltered, and, seeing she had guessed, Elizabeth nodded.
“Somehow, Karl find out that it is my fault Mr. Bob was not taken as a spy. Not yet will he forgive it, but I not think he feel so always; and still if he need me I go to him.”
“Where is he now?” asked Lucy, thinking how little Karl deserved such faithfulness and ashamed that she had ever wondered at Bob’s trusting Elizabeth so entirely.
“He is in Brussels—cook in a hospital. He is safe, Miss Lucy. I not think I could work to help America to win if Karl was in the trenches.”
Lucy had no sympathy for this feeling, but she dimly understood it.
Another desire had grown stronger than all else in her mind now; the wish to make sure of reaching Bob’s rendezvous. The great meadows behind the town were his only possible landing-place, but they were more than a mile away, and sentries were on guard all night in the town.
“Oh, Elizabeth, how shall we ever manage to get there to-night?” she questioned, in a torment of anxiety.
Elizabeth gave her a funny little smile—half-ashamed and yet resolute. “You have forgot, Miss Lucy, that I am a German. Almost where I like can I go, since the town is taken.”