'We are waiting for our people to come for us. They told us to come here and wait for them. So we are waiting till they come,' the eldest girl replied. 'Yes. We are waiting till our people come for us,' said all the others in chorus. 'But,' said Frau Ebermann very patiently--'but now tell me, for I tell you that I am not in the least angry, where do you come from? Where do you come from?' The five gave the names of two villages of which she had read in the papers, 'That is silly,' said Frau Ebermann. 'The people fired on us, and they were punished. Those places are wiped out, stamped flat.' 'Yes, yes, wiped out, stamped flat. That is why and--I have lost the ribbon off my pigtail,' said the younger girl. She looked behind her over the sofa-back. 'It is not here,' said the elder. 'It was lost before. Don't you remember?' 'Now, if you are lost, you must go and tell our police. They will take care of you and give you food,' said Frau Ebermann. 'Anna will show you the way there.' 'No,'--this was the six-year-old with the smile,--'we must wait here till our people come for us. Mustn't we, sister?' 'Of course. We wait here till our people come for us. All the world knows that,' said the eldest girl. 'Yes.' The boy in her lap had waked again. 'Little children, too--as little as Henri, and _he_ doesn't wear trousers yet. As little as all that.' 'I don't understand,' said Frau Ebermann, shivering. In spite of the heat of the room and the damp breath of the steam-inhaler, the aspirin was not doing its duty. The girl raised her blue eyes and looked at the woman for an instant. 'You see,' she said, emphasising her statements with her ringers, '_they_ told _us_ to wait _here_ till _our_ people came for us. So we came. We wait till our people come for us.' 'That is silly again,' said Frau Ebermann. 'It is no good for you to wait here. Do you know what this place is? You have been to school? It is Berlin, the capital of Germany.' 'Yes, yes,' they all cried; 'Berlin, capital of Germany. We know that. That is why we came.' 'So, you see, it is no good,' she said triumphantly, 'because your people can never come for you here.' 'They told us to come here and wait till our people came for us.' They delivered this as if it were a lesson in school. Then they sat still, their hands orderly folded on their laps, smiling as sweetly as ever. 'Go away! Go away!' Frau Ebermann shrieked. 'You called?' said Anna, entering. 'No. Go away! Go away!' 'Very good, old cat,' said the maid under her breath. 'Next time you _may_ call,' and she returned to her friend in the kitchen. 'I ask you--ask you, _please_ to go away,' Frau Ebermann pleaded. 'Go to my Anna through that door, and she will give you cakes and sweeties. It is not kind of you to come into my room and behave so badly.'