“Yes,” answered Miss Minton, with a sigh. “I was only a child, but I remember many things about that time. My eldest brother was killed at Gettysburg. Amy, if you can’t control yourself, you will have to leave the table.”
Miss Minton was always stern, but her tone was kinder than her words, and Amy made an effort to check her sobs, and go on with her supper.
“Do you remember the Civil War, too, Miss Laura?” Geraldine Barlow inquired of Miss Laura, Miss Minton’s younger sister, who sat at the other end of the table.
“No, dear, I was too young. My sister is ten years older than I. I think she is the only person here who has any memory of what real war is like. Of course there was the little war with Spain, twenty years ago, but that was so quickly over.”
“Perhaps this war will be over quickly, too, now that America has gone in,” said Angel Thayer, who always looked on the bright side of things. “I don’t believe the Germans can hold out much longer. Perhaps they will give in, and ask for peace before our boys get over.”
“Not much hope of that,” said Margaret May. “My father writes that Germany is terribly strong still. He ought to know something about it, for he has been working in the French hospitals for over a year.” Margaret spoke confidently. She was very proud of that father of hers, the poor country doctor, who had left his practice at home, and gone to tend the wounded boys in France.
At that moment Fräulein pushed back her chair from the table. “May I be pardoned if I go to my room?” she asked in her slow, careful English, and she cast an appealing glance at Miss Minton. “I have a very bad headache.”
“Certainly,” said Miss Minton, kindly, and as the little German teacher hurriedly left the room, she added in a reproachful tone to Ada:
“I am afraid you have hurt Fräulein’s feelings, Ada. It is not her fault that her country is at war with us.”
Gretel’s grave face brightened, and she gave Miss Minton a grateful glance.