“Pro-German!” Her eyes flashed. “I leave that for Father and his cronies. I believe they celebrated last night—actually. My mother wasn’t German,” she said. Potter knew Mrs. von Essen had died two years before. “I know Germans,” she said, presently. “I ought to; I’ve lived among them all my life.... Sometimes I think the whole race is a button short.” Potter was to learn that in her vocabulary “a button short” meant not quite complete mentally. “I like some of them, and I’d even trust some of them, but most of them are arrogant beasts.... I’ve read their books,” she said. “Dad has a lot of them. People used to think they were nice, slow, harmless, fat, good-natured. Maybe some of them are. But I believe that’s what the German government wanted the world to think.” These were unusual words to hear falling from a girl’s lips. She had been thinking. Perhaps that had happened in her life which made her think. “Will we declare war?” she asked, in her sudden way.
“Last night I was sure we would. To-day I’m almost as sure we won’t.”
She nodded. “People don’t realize.... But we’ll be in it,” she said. “No matter how much we try to stay out, they’ll force us in. They’ll sink another Lusitania and another and another, until we have to come in. You’ll see.... Partly because they don’t understand—and partly because that’s the kind they are. You know a German never understands anybody but a German. They can’t. Just before Mother died she said to me, ‘Garde’—she always called me Garde—‘don’t marry a German, honey. Nobody but a German woman should marry a German.’ And Mother ought to know, oughtn’t she? I’d rather marry a Chinaman,” she said, suddenly becoming girlish again.
“If we have war, what will all the Germans in this country do?”
“Talk loudly till war is declared. Then shut up and do sneaky things. Nothing in the open.... I think,” she said, slowly, evidently trying to set aside prejudice and cling to fact—“I think most of them will be loyal. In spite of their talk, I don’t believe most of them would care to live in Germany and in German conditions. That’s why. But there’ll be enough.” She got up quickly and teed her ball. “Let’s go on,” she said.
Hildegarde played the same steady game as before; Potter’s mind was on other things. Somehow he believed this girl was right; that she read the future truly. The sinking of the Lusitania meant war—sooner or later it meant war.... And the country was unready for war. It did not want to get ready for war.... She had spoken about going across to fight with the Allies. He considered that. It was a thing he was to consider for days and weeks to come. But that was a makeshift. He realized it was a makeshift. There must be something better, something more logical than that.
He won a hole and halved a hole in the last nine.
“When do we fly?” she asked, eagerly.
“I shouldn’t have promised.”
“But you did.”