“Do not agitate yourself so much,” Mr. Becker was saying, soothingly. “It is true that our beloved Anna is very ill, but the doctors have great hopes for the result of the operation. I am sorry that you have had your trip for nothing, but it could not be helped. Now that you are here, you will surely stay and have coffee with us. My wife will have it ready in a few moments.”
“I am afraid I can’t possibly stay,” protested Gretel. “I only came to see Fräulein because you said she wanted me. My brother will be waiting for me. I went out in such a hurry that I forgot to mention where I was going.”
Mr. Becker glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“There is plenty of time to spare,” he said; “it is not yet five o’clock. Surely you will not deprive Mrs. Becker and me of the great pleasure of offering hospitality to Hermann Schiller’s daughter?”
His manner was so kind and courteous that Gretel was beginning to feel rather ashamed of her first suspicion. So she made no further effort to rise, and even forced a faint smile.
“Did you know my father?” she asked, stiffly. It was the first time in her life that praise of her adored father had not caused her heart to swell with pride.
“I did not have the honor of his personal acquaintance,” Mr. Becker admitted, “but his art! Oh, Miss Schiller, what an artist he was!” Mr. Becker heaved a deep sigh, and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
Before Gretel could speak again, there was a rattling of crockery, and Mrs. Becker reappeared, bearing a tray containing hot coffee and thick slices of brown bread and butter. Setting the tray on the centre table, she requested her husband and Gretel, in the same dull tone as before, to “come and eat.” Gretel was very uncomfortable, and very anxious to get away, but she dared not refuse the invitation, and Mrs. Becker poured her out a cup of the steaming coffee.
“This is indeed a great pleasure,” remarked Mr. Becker, smiling benignly. “We are proud, are we not, Gertrude, to have the daughter of the great Hermann Schiller drink coffee with us?”
“Certainly we are proud,” murmured Mrs. Becker, obediently, but the expression of her face did not change in the slightest, and Gretel, knowing how anxious she must be about her niece, felt very sorry for her. She was also a good deal surprised by Mr. Becker’s manner, for on former occasions when she had gone to see Fräulein, that gentleman had taken very little notice of her.