"You have a number of friends," said Annie Brunel, with a smile; "and they seem to be all big men. If you were as small as I am, one might account for your liking big men."
Grete Halm looked at her companion. There could be no doubt about the German girl being the taller and certainly the stouter of the two; and yet until that moment she had fancied that Miss Brunel was ever so much taller than she.
"It is the manner of your walk, mademoiselle, and your figure—and perhaps the expression of your face—that make me think you tall. No, I see you are not tall."
For a moment Margarethe's soft brown eyes dwelt on her companion—perhaps with a touch of wistful, puzzled longing to know why grace of form should so touch our sympathies; then she turned to the large Heinrich Holzmann—whose big shoulders should have been more attractive to a girl's eye than another girl's waist—and said that the young English lady wished the best apartments in the house. Margarethe further gave him to understand that his guests would be very particular about their cookery; and, above all, that they would not submit to have but one fork and knife to attend them through four or five courses. Heinrich said "Yaw" in a grave manner to all her directions, and begged her to tell the English lady that his brother, who spoke French, would be home next day.
"But the lady and her friend—who will be here presently—must not starve till to-morrow," said the practical Grete.
"Nein," said Heinrich, absently.
"I mean they must have dinner here, and you must look after it, Heinrich Holzmann."
"Ja, ja."
"You have plenty in the house?"
"Ja."