"Look here, children," she said, smiling, "I don't want to know what you are talking about. If anything of any sort happens, I may be asked questions; and I don't want to have to tell stories. I can't help hearing, if you leave the door open, and laugh so--indeed, all the neighborhood might hear it; so please shut the door, in future."
So saying, she again went back to her work in the next room.
"Goodbye, I'm going, too," Christine said. "I will think it over, by tomorrow morning, and tell you what you are to do."
The next morning, the boys were very anxious to hear Christine's proposals; for although they had quite made up their minds to try their own plan, if hers was not feasible, still they felt that, with her knowledge of the country, she was likely, at any rate, to give them good advice.
Until she had cleared away breakfast, Christine said nothing. Then she took out her knitting, and sat against the window.
"Now," she began, "I will tell you what I have thought of. It would be easy enough, if it was not for him. He's so big, and so red, and he doesn't speak German.
"Oh dear, he's very tiresome!" and she shook her head at Tim; who smiled, laid his hand on his breast, and endeavored to look affecting.
Christine laughed.
"The only thing I can think of, for him, is that he shall go out as a Jew peddler; with one of their broad hats, and a tray of little trinkets. He might pass, if none of the soldiers took it into their heads to buy."
The proposition was translated to Tim Doyle.