Miss Eliot looked into the distressed blue eyes and laughed.
“Just the same Hannah!” she said. “Dy-the, take good care of her and don’t let her get lost in Chicago. Now, child, introduce me to your Frieda and get back on the train at once.”
“Here she is,” said Hannah, casting one more sad look at the shattered cake, over which a baggage-man had rolled a heavy truck. “And, Frieda, Miss Eliot is the one to go to, always, when you need anything, from shoe-strings to a scolding. O, Catherine, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to help!”
Catherine caught her in a mighty hug.
“Never you mind one minute. It would have given us indigestion, and it was so funny to see it go smash! Give your father my love, won’t you, darling? And Aunt Clara, when you see her.”
“And write from the very first station,” said Alice. “I’m so glad Dy-the is going to be with you.”
“Give Karl my greetings,” said Frieda, holding 293 on to Hannah’s hand tightly. “And O, ever my love to Tante Edith and Uncle Edward!”
“Come, Babe, not another minute,” and Dy-the, little but determined, plucked Hannah from detaining arms, and set her firmly on the platform of the rear car. There, as the train glided out, she stood, her eyes fixed upon the little group of three with arms around each other.
“Good-by! Good-by!” she called and they answered. Then Frieda ran a little nearer, holding out her arms in a pleading gesture, and over the noise of the retreating train their voices rang out together:
“Auf Wiedersehen!”