"What are you crying about?" he asked, after his first quick survey of her.
"They—they are killing Rudolph Kreisler!" sobbed Louise.
"No," assured Jimmie, "he'll get home free. He lives just across there. Are these your books?"
*****
The next day matters only grew worse.
The whole atmosphere of the third grade had become electric with suspicion of a certain little boy who, looking neither to right nor to left, kept his wistful blue eyes bent on the task before him. When Rudolph stood up at the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner, Luke growled out that he was "just pretending." And when, from his seat near the door, the German lad answered the knock of a visitor, Ella Vaiden whispered audibly:
"See that? He wants to see who's there!"
In recitation Rudolph answered the questions put to him with despicable German efficiency, but Luke missed with conspicuous patriotism and went noisily foot.
But through it all Louise was doing her own thinking. She was a loyal little citizen and loved her country with all her heart; but there flowed through her veins the blood of a long line of Americans who had been just and fair. The little girl was afraid of German spies—afraid for her country—and Rudolph Kreisler's pockets did bulge ominously. If Rudolph Kreisler was a German spy, why he would have to be dealt with, of course.
But if he wasn't——?