“What kid’s head?” demanded Gretel, pausing with her foot on the lowest stair.
“The little rat who insulted you this afternoon. Geraldine has been telling me about it. I only wish I’d been there to give him what he deserved.”
“See here, Jerry,” said Gretel, sternly, “you must promise me faithfully to do nothing of the kind. You will make me very uncomfortable and unhappy if you do.”
Jerry looked very much surprised, and a little disgusted as well.
“You don’t like being insulted, do you?” he inquired incredulously.
“No, of course not. It was all rather horrid, and I was awfully upset for a few minutes, but that boy is just silly and spoiled, and besides, he’s smaller than you. He has a reason for hating the Germans; his father was lost on the Lusitania. He doesn’t know I am an American; he only knows my father was a German. Now, Jerry, will you promise me to let him alone, and not say another word about it?”
Gretel spoke pleadingly, and Jerry was somewhat mollified. He moved uneasily from one foot to the other.
“Well, if you put it in that way,” he said, reluctantly, “I suppose I’ve got to promise, but it really would be a great satisfaction to punch that kid’s head.”
Gretel could not help laughing.
“Thank you, Jerry dear,” she said. “I know you are my friend, and want to help me when you can, but if you were to make any more trouble about this silly business, I should feel very badly indeed. I wouldn’t for the world have anything happen to make things uncomfortable for the Chesters. I’m as good an American as any of you, you know that, but I can’t help having a German name, and if people say disagreeable things, I’ve just got to make the best of it, and try not to mind.”