“Oh, yes, she is very kind,” said loyal Gretel, “and—and I suppose I’m fond of her. I try to be very grateful all the time; Ada is kind, too; she gave me ten cents once. Of course it was pretty hard at first, I missed Father so, but I’m getting used to it now.”
Gretel wondered why at that moment her brother suddenly took her hand and patted it. He did not say anything, but there was a very kind look in his eyes, and when he spoke next his voice was unusually gentle.
“Tell me about your school,” he said. “Do you like going to school and what are your favorite lessons?”
And Gretel, delighted to find her brother really interested in her affairs, told him all about the lessons with Miss Talcott; of that lady’s going to California, and how Mrs. Marsh had advised her to try to make herself useful about the house during her enforced holiday. Mr. Douane listened very attentively, and although he did not say much, Gretel felt sure that he was interested. By dint of a few more questions she was led on to tell about her daily life and in less than half an hour Mr. Douane had learned all, and more than he wanted to know about his little sister’s life during the past year.
That was a wonderful afternoon, and Gretel enjoyed every moment. She even told her brother about Dora, and the visit of Lillie and Peter, ending with the story of the cream-puffs, over which Mr. Douane fairly shouted with laughter.
“It really was rather funny,” said Gretel, who could not help laughing herself at the recollection of that dreadful night, “but Mrs. Marsh was very angry; she says the spots will never come out of her rug, and it was so sad about Dora’s having to go away. Dora was such a nice girl, and it was her first place. Mrs. Marsh wouldn’t even give her a reference.”
Gretel was beginning to look rather troubled, but her brother said he was sure Dora would soon find another place, and then changed the subject by asking her where she would like to dine.
“There’s a lovely restaurant on Seventh Avenue,” said Gretel. “Father took me there two or three times, but perhaps you might think it was too expensive. They charge seventy-five cents for the table d’hôte.”
Mr. Douane laughed, and looked so much amused that Gretel was considerably puzzled.
“I have no doubt it is a very fine restaurant,” he said, kindly, “but I don’t think we will dine there this evening. Suppose we try Sherry’s? I haven’t been there for some years, but it used to be rather good.”