Bess was enthusiastic immediately. She had been quite subdued since the boathouse party, and Nan’s sickness; she was “just aching” for something to happen! Anything “doing” always delighted Bess; but the trouble with Nan’s chum was, she would try to mix the business of studying with pleasure.
She started to crochet a “fascinator” (so Amelia Boggs called it) for Nan’s doll, and fearing she would not get it done in time she carried the crocheting with her into German class, Frau Deuseldorf was not particularly sharp-sighted; but her hearing was not failing; and when she addressed Bess twice without receiving any reply it was only natural that the German teacher should step down from the platform to see what the brown head was doing, bent so low over Elizabeth’s book.
“Vell, vell, vell!” exclaimed the teacher, in some excitement. “Vas iss?”
“Oh! One, two, three, and four!” muttered the earnest Bess. “Did—did you speak to me, Madam?” and the girl looked up dreamily, poising the crocheting needle before taking up the next stitch.
“Ach! what is the child doing?” demanded the lady, seizing the work in Bess’ hand.
“Oh, Madam Deuseldorf!” shrieked Bess. “You made me drop a stitch.”
“Drop a stitch? Drop a stitch?” repeated the lady, in some heat. “Undt vy shouldt you have stitches to drop in classroom? Tell me that, please!”
“Oh—oh—I—I——” poor Bess stammered, Frau Deuseldorf could be very stern when she wished.
“What iss this for?” demanded the teacher, holding up the confiscated “fascinator” and shaking it in the air so that all the girls began to giggle.
“It’s for the party,” blurted out Bess, very red in the face.