“Mamma’s not very patriotic,” Aurora was at any rate not too spiritless to mention.
“Well, I call that dreadful,” her companion declared. “I’ve heard there are some Americans like that, but I never believed it.”
“Oh there are all sorts of Americans.”
“Aurora’s one of the right sort,” cried Miss Ruck, ready, it seemed, for the closest comradeship.
“Are you very patriotic,” I asked of the attractive exile.
Miss Ruck, however, promptly answered for her. “She’s right down homesick—she’s dying to go. If you were me,” she went on to her friend, “I guess your mother would have to take me.”
“Mamma’s going to take me to Dresden.”
“Well, I never heard of anything so cold-blooded!” said Miss Ruck. “It’s like something in a weird story.”
“I never heard Dresden was so awful a fate,” I ventured to interpose.
Miss Ruck’s eyes made light of me. “Well, I don’t believe you’re a good American,” she smartly said, “and I never supposed you were. You’d better go right in there and talk to Mrs. Church.”