“I am not hungry,” said Gretel. “Oh, Mrs. Becker,” she added, eagerly, “can’t you persuade your husband to let me go home? My brother will be so terribly worried.”
Mrs. Becker softly closed the door and stood with her back against it.
“You ought not to have made Rudolph so angry,” she said in a frightened whisper. “You should have done what he asked. I never disobey him, never.”
“But I couldn’t do what he asked,” cried Gretel. “Oh, Mrs. Becker, don’t you see I couldn’t? I am an American.”
“Well, what does that matter? Your father was a German; you should be a German, too. Now you have made my husband angry, and Heaven knows what will happen. Rudolph is a great patriot; he is working for the Fatherland. No one suspects, but if you told what he said to you, it would do terrible harm to the cause. Rudolph’s life might be in danger, and his friends’ lives, too. He has two friends in there with him now.” Mrs. Becker opened the door a crack as she spoke, and Gretel caught the sound of men’s voices. They were not talking loud, but their voices sounded excited, and she could even distinguish a few German words she knew.
“You hear?” said the woman, and heaved a long sigh.
Gretel burst into tears.
“Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?” she sobbed. “No one has any idea where I am. They will never be able to find me. Mrs. Becker, for the love of Heaven, help me to get away.”
“It is indeed terrible,” sighed Mrs. Becker, “but it is all your own fault. If you had obeyed my husband, you would have been at home hours ago. I am very sorry, but there is nothing I can do. Rudolph says I may bring in a mattress and a pillow, and in the morning I will bring your breakfast, and some water, so that you may wash.”
She was turning to leave the room when Gretel suddenly remembered something.