"Hold thy tongue, thou little gabbling goose of a chatterbox," cried Fritz, turning suddenly round in real anger and casting a glance of withering scorn upon his unhappy sister; "hast thou already forgotten what I said to thee in the hall downstairs?"
"I did not say anything about the war," said Ella in reply, covering her face suddenly with her frilled pinafore and grasping on to the side of the invalid's chair, while she stretched out her hand as if to defend herself;—"I did not say one word about the war, did I, Violet?"
"No, no; she said nothing—nothing that I heard. She is a good little lamb, and thou must not frighten her, Fritz," cried Violet soothingly, as she drew the little sobbing girl over to her side and held her arm tightly round her fat waist.
"She is a good little new-born donkey," snorted Fritz still in much virtuous anger; "she has no more sense than the head of a pin. I told her something only a moment ago downstairs, and the instant she gets up into the room she must begin to let out the whole secret."
"What secret?"
"About the war," sobbed Ella.
"About what war? I do not understand. Why is it a secret, and why should Ella not tell me?" she added in a distressed voice.
"He said if I did tell thee he would cut my tongue out with his sword, and give me to the policeman to put me into the prison," sobbed Ella.
"For shame, Fritz! how couldst thou frighten her so?" said Violet with quite a hot flush on her usually pale face.—"I will not let him touch thee, Ella. There, put down thy apron; Fritz was only laughing at thee."
"Of course," cried Fritz contemptuously; "but she is such a little thrush, she would swallow a camel, hump and all, if one only held it up to her mouth."