“The girls all wondered where you were,” she said a little reproachfully, as she sat down on the edge of Gretel’s bed to unbutton her boots. “I told them you were playing for the Mintons, but I thought perhaps you would come in later.”
“I didn’t feel like romping to-night,” said Gretel, “so I thought I might as well go to bed as do anything else.”
“I’m glad you weren’t with Fräulein all the evening,” said Geraldine. “Ada said she supposed you were hobnobbing together, and it made me mad. You know the sarcastic way she has of saying things.”
Gretel sighed.
“I can’t help feeling very sorry for Fräulein!” she said. “Just think how we should feel if we were in Germany now, and couldn’t go home. It isn’t her fault that we are at war, nor her family’s fault either.”
“No, of course it isn’t,” Geraldine agreed, “and I’ve always stood up for her when Ada and the others said disagreeable things. But she did act rather queerly to-night at supper. Suppose she should turn out to be a spy, or something dreadful like that.”
Geraldine was romantic, and she and her twin brother had read a great many detective stories.
“Nonsense,” said Gretel, indignantly. “You ought not to say such things even in fun.”
“Ada wasn’t in fun,” said Geraldine. “She said—but perhaps I’d better not tell you if it’s going to make you mad.”
“Tell me,” said Gretel, sitting up in bed. “After all, I suppose Ada has the right to say what she chooses, even if it is unkind.”