ADA EXPRESSES AN OPINION
“Come down here, Jerry; I want to talk to you.”
Jerry Barlow swung himself down from the piazza railing, from whence
he had been watching the departure of a sailboat filled with Sunday
pleasure-seekers, and joined his sister on the lawn.
“What’s up?” he demanded curiously, for Geraldine’s face was serious.
Geraldine did not answer at once, but led the way across the lawn to a
little rustic summer-house, covered with blooming honeysuckle.
“I didn’t want to talk where any one could hear,” she explained. “Sit
down, and I’ll tell you. I’m worried about Gretel.”
“Worried about Gretel,” repeated Jerry, incredulously. “Why, there
isn’t anything the matter with her, is there? She looks all right to
me.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that she’s ill, or anything like that,” said
Geraldine. “I know she’s in some trouble, and she won’t tell me what it
is. It began yesterday afternoon, when she went to New London with Mrs.
Chester.”
“Why don’t you ask her what the matter is?” Jerry inquired,
practically. “I thought you two always told each other everything.”
Geraldine reddened.
“We always have,” she said; “at least, I always tell her everything,
and I thought she told me, but she won’t tell me about this. I’m afraid
she’s very unhappy.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Jerry, his own face sobering, for he
was almost as devoted to Gretel as his sister.
“Well,” said Geraldine, slowly, “it’s all rather queer, and I don’t
understand it. She was all right till yesterday afternoon. She went
shopping with Mrs. Chester, and she has been different ever since. She
cried dreadfully, and she scarcely ate any dinner, and once in the
night I woke up and heard her tossing and moaning in her sleep. I saw
her wiping her eyes in church this morning, and now she’s gone up to
her room to write letters. She’s trying awfully hard to be cheerful,
and act as if nothing had happened, but she can’t deceive me.”
Jerry’s eyes flashed indignantly.
“I guess I know what the trouble is,” he said. “Somebody’s been making
disagreeable remarks about her being German. It’s a beastly shame,
that’s what it is.”
“I thought of that,” said Geraldine, “but who could it have been? Not
Mrs. Chester or that nice Mrs. Cranston, I am sure. I asked her if she
had happened to meet Ada Godfrey, and she said no. I can’t think of any
one else who would do such a mean thing.”
“Well, I wish I could catch whoever it was,” declared Jerry. “I’d say
what I thought pretty quick. That kid over at the Godfreys’ makes me
sick, the way he goes on about the Germans. Suppose his father did
get drowned on the _Lusitania_. It was an awful thing, of course, but
he needn’t put on such grand airs, and talk about never touching the
hand of a German. Wouldn’t eat with one, he said, any more than he’d
eat with a negro. Paul and I told him to shut up, and then he got
mad, and wouldn’t speak to us. He’s only thirteen, but you should see
him swagger. I’d like to give that kid a ducking, and--I say, here he
comes, and the Godfrey girl along with him.”
It was true; Ada Godfrey and her cousin Archie Davenport were coming up
the path from the gate. Geraldine uttered a smothered exclamation of
dismay.
“I believe Molly did ask them over,” she said; “I had forgotten all
about it. I hope they won’t say anything to upset Gretel more than she
is upset already. You must be polite to that boy, Jerry, even if he
is a cad. Remember we are the Chesters’ guests, and we can’t be rude
to people who come to their house.” With which final warning to her
brother, Geraldine went forward to welcome the visitors.
Archie Davenport was a pale, undersized boy, with a shrill, childish
voice, and the manners of a man of the world. He was an only
child, and since his father’s tragic death, two years before, had
been completely spoiled by his doting mother. In response to Ada’s
introduction, he greeted Geraldine with a grown-up manner, which almost
made her laugh in his face, and, before they reached the house, had
inquired, with the air of a bored clubman:
“Any sport going on this afternoon?”
“I don’t know just what you call sport,” said Geraldine, her eyes
beginning to twinkle. “I dare say you and the boys will find some way
of amusing yourselves. You might like to see Frank’s rabbits.”
Jerry chuckled appreciatively, but before Archie could express his
contempt of such juvenile pastime, Molly and Kitty--who had seen their
approach--came out to meet them.
“It was good of you to walk over here in this heat,” said Molly, as she
led the way to the coolest corner of the piazza. “We are expecting some
more visitors later, but we can have a nice little chat by ourselves
before they come.”
“Who are coming?” Ada inquired with interest.
“My cousin Stephen Cranston and that nice Virginia friend of his, Mr.
Fairfax. Steve comes over from the station as often as he can get
leave, now his mother is here, and we all like Jimmy Fairfax very much.”
Ada’s face brightened perceptibly. She was nearly sixteen, and not at
all averse to the society of young men.
“May I go up to your room for a minute to smooth my hair?” she asked.
“All the crimp has come out in the heat, and I should like to look
respectable when your friends come.”
“Oh, I don’t believe they care how anybody looks,” said innocent Molly.
“They are only too thankful to get away for a little rest. Steve says
they work like dogs at the submarine base. But, of course, you can come
up to my room if you want to.” And she led the way indoors.
“Where’s Gretel?” Ada inquired, on the way up-stairs.
“In her room, writing letters,” said Molly. “She’ll be down by and by.”
Ada lowered her voice. “Do you know, Molly, I think it’s a great pity
Gretel hasn’t given up that horrid German name. She could call herself
Douaine just as well as not, and it would be so much less embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing,” repeated Molly, “I don’t see anything embarrassing
about it. What do you mean?”
“Why, in introducing her to people, of course. Nobody wants to meet
a person named Schiller in these days, and some people even think it
unusually kind of your father and mother to have Gretel here just now.
Mrs. Appleton was speaking to Mother about it the other day, after the
Red Cross meeting.”
“I never heard of anything quite so silly in my life,” exclaimed Molly,
indignantly. “Gretel is just as much an American as any of us. Lots of
Americans have German names.”
“Oh, I’m not saying anything against her,” protested Ada. “I only
said it was a pity she wasn’t willing to be called Douaine instead
of Schiller. Is this your room? How pretty it is.” And Ada, possibly
judging from Molly’s expression that she had said enough on the subject
of German names, hastened to lead the conversation into smoother
channels.
Gretel, in her own room, was finishing a long letter to Barbara. It
was a pleasant, cheerful letter, telling of the little every-day
happenings, and containing no word that would lead Mrs. Douaine to
suppose her sister-in-law had a care in the world. And yet, as Gretel
finished the last page, and addressed her envelope, her heart was far
from being as light as Barbara imagined.
“If I could only tell her and Percy about it,” she said with a sigh,
“it would be so much easier. Percy is so wise and broad-minded, he
would be sure to know what to do. But Fritz asked me not to mention him
to any one, and he was Father’s best friend. Oh, I can’t believe that
Fritz is doing anything wrong, and yet why should he object to people
knowing who he is?”
It was a very perplexing question, and Gretel leaned her chin in her
hands, and thought long and earnestly. She heard the voices of visitors
on the piazza, but felt in no hurry to go down-stairs and join her
friends. It was a relief to be alone for a little while. Oh, why
had she gone shopping with Mrs. Chester? Why had she ever met Fritz
Lippheim? She resolved that, if possible, she would keep away from the
town during the remainder of her visit.
At last the clock on the stairs struck five, and Gretel roused herself
with an effort.
“I must go down,” she told herself reluctantly. “They will think me so
queer and unsociable if I stay up here any longer. Ada’s voice sounds
as if she were holding forth about something.”
Ada certainly was “holding forth,” and even before she reached the
piazza, Gretel could hear her declaring in a loud, decided voice:
“I think it’s the duty of every one of us to do it. A person who didn’t
would be acting disloyally to the United States.”
“Here comes Miss Gretel,” said Stephen Cranston, rising, and going
forward to meet the newcomer, in his kind, courteous way. “You are just
in time to hear Miss Godfrey deliver a lecture on loyalty. She is very
eloquent on the subject.”
Gretel smiled faintly as she dropped into the chair Stephen pushed
forward for her, and, turning to Ada, asked what the lecture was about.
“I’m not delivering a lecture at all,” said Ada, rather crossly. “I
was only saying something that every one knows. We were talking about
spies, and Kitty said she wondered what a person would do who found out
some one she knew was a suspicious character. I said of course a loyal
American would inform at once. It’s the only thing to do in war time.”
“But I didn’t mean an ordinary person,” objected Kitty. “I meant a
friend, some one you really cared about. Just think of having to
inform against a cousin, or----”
“I would inform against my own brother if I thought he were disloyal to
my country,” interrupted Ada, heroically. “Don’t you think I am right,
Mr. Fairfax?”
“I do,” agreed the young ensign heartily. “Any one acting against the
United States Government is a traitor, and we all know what should be
done with traitors.”
“But suppose you were not sure,” objected Kitty. “Suppose you only
suspected some one, and had no real proof, what would you do then?”
“This is no time to wait for proof,” Jimmy Fairfax asserted. “Let the
United States Secret Service look up the proofs. Our duty would be
to give the information, and put the right authorities on the scent.
Did you read about those ammunition works that were blown up the
other day in New Jersey? More than a hundred people were killed. That
was undoubtedly the work of the Germans. I tell you we can’t be too
careful.”
“Well, we are none of us likely to be called upon to inform against any
of our friends,” said Stephen, good-naturedly. “I don’t believe we have
any German spies among our acquaintances, do you, Miss Gretel?”
“I hope not, I am sure,” said Gretel, trying to speak quite naturally,
but conscious of a sound of embarrassment in her voice.
Stephen looked at her more attentively.
“Have you a headache?” he asked, kindly.
“No,” said Gretel. “What made you think I had?”
“I thought you were looking a little seedy. This heat is enough to give
any one a headache. My mother has had a bad one all day. Ah, here comes
some iced tea; that will refresh us all. Aunt Molly knows what people
like on a hot afternoon.”
“I wonder where the boys are,” remarked Molly, getting out of the
hammock and preparing to take command of the tea-tray. “Jerry adores
this chocolate cake.”
“Here comes one boy, at any rate,” said Stephen. “He doesn’t look very
cheerful. Perhaps the heat has used him up.”
“It’s Ada’s cousin,” said Molly. “Come up here, Archie, and have some
tea. Where are the others?”
“Down at the barn, amusing themselves with rabbits,” answered Archie,
in a tone of extreme disgust. “I stayed as long as I could stand it.
I’ve come to see if Ada isn’t ready to go home.”
“You don’t care about pets, then,” said Molly, with difficulty
preserving her gravity.
“Not much. I think I’m rather too old to waste my time over rabbits.
There’s a kid down there, too, and the boys are making such a silly
fuss over her. I can’t stand babies.”
“That’s my little sister Daisy,” said Molly. “We think she’s quite
adorable. I’m sorry you don’t like her.”
“I prefer older people,” replied Archie, with his most grown-up air,
and then, catching sight of the tea-tray, he added in quite a different
tone:
“I say that cake looks good. Can a fellow have some?”
“To be sure,” laughed Molly. “Come up and meet my friends. This is my
cousin Mr. Cranston, and this other young man is Mr. Fairfax. These
girls are Geraldine Barlow, Kitty Sharp, and Gretel Schiller. You’ve
met Geraldine and Kitty already, but I don’t think you’ve seen Gretel
before.”
Archie had reached the top of the piazza steps by this time, but at the
mention of Gretel’s name, he suddenly drew back and thrust both hands
into his pockets.
“That’s the German girl,” he announced in his shrill, aggressive voice.
“I don’t speak to Germans. Ada told me you had one here, and I said I
wouldn’t speak to her.”
“You little cad!” exclaimed Stephen, angrily; “you deserve a good
thrashing, and I’d like to give it to you!”
He half rose from his chair as he spoke, but Gretel put out a detaining
hand.
“Please don’t make a fuss,” she said in a low voice. “He’s only a
little boy, and--and I’m afraid a good many people feel that way about
Germans.”
“Archie, you are a very naughty boy,” expostulated Ada. “You ought to
be ashamed of yourself. If you can’t be a gentleman, you had better go
back to the rabbits.”
“Well, I like that!” cried Archie, indignantly. “You’re a nice one to
scold me, after saying----”
“Archie Davenport, stop this very minute. If you say another word I’ll
tell Aunt Agnes, and you will be severely punished.” Ada’s cheeks were
crimson, and she was looking decidedly uncomfortable.
“Don’t mind him, please, Ada,” pleaded Gretel. “It really isn’t worth
while to let a boy like that spoil Molly’s tea-party. Let’s give him
some cake, and perhaps it will keep him quiet.”
Gretel spoke cheerfully, but her voice was not quite steady, and there
was a hurt look in her eyes that it pained her friends to see.
[Illustration: GRETEL PUT OUT A DETAINING HAND.--_Page 167._]
“He doesn’t deserve any cake,” declared Ada, rising. “I’m going to
take him home. It’s time I went, anyway; I promised Mother to be
back by half-past five. Good-bye, everybody. Oh, Mr. Cranston, don’t
you and Mr. Fairfax want to come over to play tennis at our place some
afternoon? The courts are pretty good. You can bring any friends you
like.” And, having cast a rather coquettish glance in the direction
of the two young ensigns, Ada hurried down the steps, followed by the
reluctant Archie.
“I’ll walk home with you if you don’t mind,” said Jimmy Fairfax. And as
Ada certainly did not mind, the two walked down the path together very
amicably indeed.
For the next few minutes everybody talked fast and rather nervously.
Molly plied Gretel with tea and chocolate cake, and Geraldine changed
her seat so as to sit next to her friend, and give Gretel’s hand a
surreptitious squeeze. Kitty began to sing, “When the Boys Come Home,”
and Stephen plunged into a funny story, which made them all laugh. No
further allusion was made to Ada or her cousin, and it was evident
that every one was anxious to be especially kind to Gretel. Gretel
understood, and her heart glowed with gratitude, but Archie Davenport’s
foolish behavior had left a sting, nevertheless, and then there was
that talk about informing against suspects, to add still more to her
trouble and perplexity. Jimmy Fairfax came back to supper, and in the
evening they all went out in the launch, with Mrs. Cranston to chaperon
the party.
“Why so pensive, Miss Gretel?” Stephen asked, taking the vacant seat
beside Gretel, as the little motor-boat carried them swiftly up the
river towards Norwich.
Gretel roused herself with a start.
“I didn’t know I was pensive,” she said, smiling. “I was thinking how
lovely and peaceful it was out here on the water.”
“You looked as if your thoughts were about a thousand miles away from
the rest of us,” said the young man. “I want to say something but I’m
half afraid you may not like it.”
“Try and see,” said Gretel. “I don’t believe it is anything I shall
object to.”
“It’s about the nonsense that little beast talked this afternoon.
I’m afraid it hurt your feelings and it’s rather silly to mind those
things, you know.”
“I know it is,” said Gretel. “I try not to be silly and I really don’t
mind half as much as I did at first. I know a great many people feel
very bitterly against the Germans, and I don’t suppose they can help
it. I am an American, of course, but my father was a German and I loved
him very dearly. It does hurt sometimes to hear people talk about his
country as they do.”
“Of course it hurts,” said Stephen. “I can just imagine how I should
feel about people who talked against the United States. The Germans
have done some outrageous things and I hope they are going to be
thoroughly licked, but it isn’t necessary to throw mud at people just
because they happen to have had German ancestors. I’m awfully glad you
look at the thing so sensibly.”
“Mr. Cranston,” said Gretel abruptly, “do you agree with Ada and Mr.
Fairfax in what they said this afternoon about--about informing
against people?”
Stephen hesitated for a moment and his merry, boyish face grew grave.
“That is a hard question to answer,” he said. “To inform against a
friend is a pretty rotten thing to do, and yet these are very serious
times. I think it would depend a good deal upon the circumstances in
the case. One would have to be pretty sure one wasn’t mistaken.”
Gretel’s face brightened, but before she could speak again, Mrs.
Cranston called to her son from the other end of the boat.
“Sing something, Steve; the girls want to hear you.”
There was no more war talk that evening, but Stephen could not help
noticing that Gretel seemed more cheerful than she had been all the
afternoon, and when they reached the landing he detained Molly for a
moment on the pier to say in a low tone:
“I hope you are not going to let your friend Miss Godfrey bring that
brat of a cousin of hers over here again. He upset Gretel Schiller a
lot, and she’s a nice girl, too. I say, do you happen to know if she
has many German friends?”
“I know she hasn’t,” said Molly, confidently. “She told us that with
the exception of our Fräulein at school, she hadn’t spoken to a single
German since she was a little girl. Why do you want to know?”
“Oh, I was only wondering,” returned her cousin carelessly. “It would
be pretty hard for her if she had German friends in these days, that’s
all. That Godfrey girl hasn’t much tact.”
“Gretel is very sensitive,” said Molly, “but she hasn’t any German
friends, so there isn’t anything to worry about.” And Molly tripped
away to join the rest of the party.
Stephen Cranston was not Gretel’s only champion, as she discovered a
little later that evening. The visitors had gone and the family were on
their way up-stairs to bed, when Jerry waylaid her in the front hall.
“Wait a minute, Gretel,” he said in a low voice. “I just want to tell
you that I’m going to punch that kid’s head to-morrow.”
“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.”
“A very sensible conclusion,” said a pleasant voice close behind them,
and Mrs. Cranston slipped an arm round Gretel’s waist. “I couldn’t
help overhearing what you were saying, dear,” she added, as they went
up-stairs together. “Steve has told me about that little episode this
afternoon, and I think you acted with a good deal of dignity, and
showed real common sense.”
Gretel found Molly, Kitty, and Geraldine all eagerly discussing the
events of the afternoon.
“I really can’t stand Ada Godfrey,” Geraldine was declaring, as Gretel
entered the room. “She must have said something horrid; that boy hinted
as much.”
“Oh, please don’t let’s talk any more about that,” urged Gretel,
cheerfully. “Let’s forget all about it, and talk of something else.
Molly, I see why you are so fond of your aunt. She is perfectly lovely
and the most understanding person I’ve met in a long time.”