Gretel admitted modestly that it was.
“Gretel is very clever,” said Molly. “You should have seen the socks she knit at school. I suppose it’s Ger—— I mean some people are cleverer with their fingers than others.”
As they approached the house Gretel fell behind with Mrs. Chester, while Molly and Geraldine hurried on to join the boys, who were just finishing an exciting game of tennis. There was something she felt she must say, but it was not easy to begin.
“Do you play tennis?” Mrs. Chester asked, merely for the sake of saying something, for she noticed that the girl looked troubled.
“Yes, a little, but—but, Mrs. Chester, may I ask you something?”
“Certainly, dear; anything you like,” said Mrs. Chester, kindly. “What is it?”
“It’s about—about what those ladies were talking of,” faltered Gretel, with crimson cheeks. “Do you believe any German really did that dreadful thing—about the ground glass, you know?”
“I try not to believe such stories,” Mrs. Chester answered gravely. “I know that many of them are entirely untrue and others grossly exaggerated. Still, dreadful things have undoubtedly happened.”
“I know,” said Gretel, simply. “I have been thinking of what Mrs. Godfrey said about people with German names. Perhaps they would rather not have me work with them. I shouldn’t like to do anything that would make you or Molly uncomfortable.”
“My dear child, you surely don’t attach any importance to such foolish talk!” said Mrs. Chester, smiling. “We all know that many of our most loyal citizens have German names.”