“And you know how nervous I am in a thunder-storm,” she added, “so don’t urge me to run the risk of being caught out in one.”
Gretel said no more, but accompanied her guest to the front door, after Fräulein and Mr. Douaine had exchanged a cool farewell.
“Come and see me, Liebchen,” whispered Fräulein, whose manner had resumed all its old warmth the moment they were out of Mr. Douaine’s hearing. “My aunt told me to be sure to appoint an afternoon when you can come to tea.”
Gretel hesitated.
“I am not sure if I can,” she faltered. “We are going to Washington so soon, you know. I may not have a spare afternoon.”
But Fräulein would not hear of any such flimsy excuses.
“If you do not come I shall be offended,” she protested. “I shall think you no longer care for me, and that would make me very unhappy. My aunt would be offended, too. You used to say you liked her German cookies, and it pleased her so much. Suppose we say next Tuesday. You do not go to Washington until the last of the week.”
Fräulein was so very urgent that it really seemed impossible to refuse her invitation without being rude, and, as Gretel had no wish to hurt her old friend’s feelings, she finally gave a rather half-hearted consent, and the engagement was made for the following Tuesday afternoon.
“If anything should happen to prevent, I will either write or telephone,” Gretel added, by way of a proviso.
“Certainly, but you must not let anything prevent. My aunt is very fond of you, and she does not like many people.”