“No,” returned Molly, “some one might be hurt. Wait. I’ll see.”
Molly tiptoed in the direction of the sound, but as she went loud sobbing broke out. Jean and Nan were for getting away. That did not sound like any one who was injured. Perhaps they would intrude. But Molly was obviously seeing something or some one. She was looking soberly ahead, then put her head on one side to listen. Molly was as careful as they would be not to be intrusive. They would leave it to her.
“Sakes, Jean, listen!” whispered Nan. “It’s German.”
“Meine Greta, meine Greta, meine Greta!” they heard repeated.
“Why, this must be where Greta lives,” said Jean. “What’s happened to her?” Jean started toward Molly, but Molly, her face alert, was listening and waved Jean back. They heard a sobbing outburst of German words that were unintelligible to them.
“Molly knows German,” Nan reminded Jean, and Jean nodded assent. Both girls were puzzled and uneasy. There must be some reason why Molly was listening where anybody would think she had no right to be. There was a pause and then another outburst of speech, as if the person, a woman, were talking to some one, even explaining. It was very curious. Then the first expression, “Meine Greta, meine kleine Greta,” was moaned, with “liebchen” and a few other words that the girls knew.
“From the looks of Greta, I wouldn’t say that she looked like anybody’s ‘liebchen,’” whispered Jean. “She looks more like some poor step-child to me.”
But Molly was picking a silent way back to them. Her face was very sober now. She waved them toward the gate, her finger on her lips; and when she reached them she hurried them out.
“I’ve heard something dreadful, girls, and we must get out of sight as soon as possible, before that poor woman has any idea that there was any one there to hear her. Let’s get right down to shore. Maybe some of the girls are out in the boat and will see us and come for us. I want to get away as quickly as I can. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get over being shocked. Isn’t Greta the name of that girl who brings us things once in a while?”
“Why, of course, Molly. You know that.”