“Your sister-in-law always does just the right thing,” remarked Geraldine, admiringly, as their host and hostess walked away to the house. “She’s lovely, and so is your brother, but it’s ever so much pleasanter not to have grown-ups about, listening to everything we say. Oh, I am so glad to see you looking more like yourself, Gretel dear. I never shall forget how you looked that day you came home, and Mr. Douaine carried you up-stairs. I thought you were dead at first, but Mr. Lippheim said you had only fainted, and then you opened your eyes, and smiled at us, and it was such a relief. Do you remember it all?”
“Not very well,” said Gretel. “I only remember seeing Barbara’s face, and being so thankful to be at home, but it’s all rather vague and confused. It was days before I really began to understand all that had happened.”
“I wish I could see that Lippheim chap,” said Jerry. “I’ve always wanted to talk to a Secret Service man.”
“You will have your wish soon, then,” said Gretel, “for Fritz is coming to dinner to-morrow. He often brings his violin, and he and Barbara play duets together. He’s doing splendid work, Percy says, but of course it’s all secret, and he never mentions it.”
“Of course not,” said Jerry. “Oh, I say, I think it’s a shame I’m only fourteen. I’d give my head to be in the thick of it all.”
Gretel and Geraldine looked rather grave, and Gretel said gently:
“It isn’t all just excitement and adventure, Jerry. Peter Grubb has been wounded. He has lost his left arm. His family only heard it this week, and poor Dora is so upset.”
A shadow crossed Jerry’s bright face.
“Poor chap,” he said, regretfully; “it’s pretty tough to lose an arm, but to lose a leg would be worse. Anyhow, he’s fought for his country, and that’s something.”
“Yes, it is something,” Gretel agreed, “and Peter is such a clever boy I am sure he will get on. But it is all very sad. I wish this dreadful war would end.”