“We are very sorry. I hope no one in your family is ill.”
“No,” said Fräulein, “it is not illness that causes me to leave. It is because Miss Minton thinks it best. She says none of you will wish to study German any more this year.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then Geraldine said, awkwardly:
“It’ll be rather jolly to have a holiday in the middle of the term, won’t it? I wish I were going to have one; don’t you, girls?”
“I do,” said Angel. “I don’t believe it will be a long holiday, though. The war will surely be over by next autumn, and then, of course, Fräulein will come back.”
“I do not think so,” said Fräulein, and there was a sound in her voice that might have been either pain or anger. “The war will not be over as soon as you think. Germany is still very strong; she will not give in for a long time yet. And in the meantime the poor Germans in this country must starve, I suppose.”
“Oh, no they won’t, I’m sure they won’t!” protested Angel. “It is very hard for them, I know, and I am dreadfully sorry, but if we were in Germany now it would be just as hard for us. I don’t believe Miss Minton meant to be unkind.”
“She thinks herself justified, I suppose,” returned the German woman. “You all do that, but it does not alter the fact. However, that is not the question now. I have come to say good-bye. I am taking the five-thirty train to New York.”
All the girls except Ada rose politely.
“Good-bye, Fräulein,” said Molly, holding out her hand. “I—I hope you’ll have a pleasant summer.”