“I don’t think so,” Lucy reassured her. “I don’t think she has anything worse than a bad cold. How long was she out in the forest yesterday?”
“About—two hours,” said Trudchen, glancing fearfully at Franz.
He had left the hearth as Adelheid relapsed into silence, and was looking from the window which opened on the farther side of the clearing. He paid no heed to his wife’s words for at that moment all his attention seemed taken up by something outside. He started, hesitated, then walked quickly to the front and went outdoors.
Lucy was feeling of Adelheid’s pulse again and trying to guess how much fever she had, for she had forgotten to bring a thermometer and there was no watch in the cottage. In a moment she was roused by hearing footsteps in the bedroom beyond, and the low sound of men’s voices. She could hear Franz speaking in a cautious whisper to someone, and one of the little boys crying out at being awakened. The footsteps at once recrossed the floor to the back, and the shed-door was creakily opened, as though Franz had taken his midnight visitor to its safer shelter.
Exasperated at this continued mystery, Lucy glanced at Trudchen, who was looking with keenest anxiety toward the bedroom door.
“Your husband has visitors at funny hours,” said Lucy, unable to contain herself.
Trudchen turned, her pale face and unhappy eyes raised to Lucy in a kind of silent appeal. To Lucy her face seemed to say, “I can’t explain—don’t ask me.” But in a minute she apparently felt the need of saying something, and she spoke dully, as though she had rehearsed the words.
“It is nothing, Fräulein. Franz has to sell wood far and near, and often people come in the night because they are passing through the forest. Some of them do not like to be about too much by daylight. Germans who fear the Americans are not friendly.”
“If their business is honest they ought to know the Americans won’t hurt them,” said Lucy, unsatisfied not so much at Trudchen’s words as at the halting manner in which they were spoken. She began to feel a new sympathy for Alan’s inquisitiveness. However, without waiting for an answer which she could not believe, she added, “I’m going back now, to the hospital. I’ll come early in the morning and bring some things she needs. There’s no danger; don’t be frightened.”
In spite of everything she felt so sorry for Trudchen’s evident misery that she put her hand on the German woman’s arm and did her best to comfort her.