“You wouldn’t if you were loyal to America,” declared Ada. “You would be glad your old country was getting what she deserved.”
“There are some good, loyal Germans in this country,” put in Angel. “Gretel knew ever so many when her father was alive, and some of them were lovely; weren’t they, Gretel?”
“I don’t believe all Germans are wicked,” said Gretel, blushing. “Those musicians who came to Father’s studio were very kind and generous to each other. I don’t believe any of them would have done the terrible things we’ve been reading about in the papers.”
“Wouldn’t they, though?” scoffed Ada. “Just give them a chance, and see what they would do. My mother says she wouldn’t trust a German, not if——”
Ada paused abruptly, as the door opened, and Fräulein herself appeared on the threshold. The little German teacher was looking flushed and agitated, and stood for a moment, glancing from one face to another, until her eye met Gretel’s sympathetic gaze. Gretel was feeling rather hot and indignant at the moment. Ada’s words had hurt her keenly, and she was conscious of a sudden access of affection for Fräulein, who seemed so forlorn and unhappy.
“Would you like to go for a walk, Fräulein?” she asked, kindly. “I’ve finished my letter, and I’d love to go with you.”
Fräulein shook her head, and her lip quivered.
“I have come to say good-bye to you all,” she said. “I go this evening.”
There was a little stir of excitement, pens were laid down, and all eyes were turned in surprise towards the German teacher.
“We—we didn’t think you would go,” gasped Molly, and Angel added politely: