Mrs. Otway grew to dislike, with a nervous, sharp distaste, the very sight of Anna's favourite motto, "_Arbeit macht das Leben suess, und die Welt zum Paradies_" ("Work makes life sweet and the world a paradise"). Was it possible that in the old days she had admired that lying sentiment? Lying? Yes, indeed! Work did _not_ make life sweet, or she, Mary Otway, would now be happier than ever, for she had never worked as hard as she was now working--working to destroy thought--working to dull the dreadful aching at her heart, throwing herself, with a feverish eagerness which surprised those about her, into the various war activities which were now, largely owing to the intelligence and thoroughness of Miss Forsyth, being organised in Witanbury. Mrs. Otway also began to hate the other German mottoes which Anna had put all about the Trellis House, especially in those rooms which might be regarded as her own domain--the kitchen, the old nursery, and Rose's bedroom. There was something of the kind embroidered on every single article which would take a _Spruch_, and Anna's mistress sometimes felt as if she would like to make a bonfire of them all! Every time she went into her kitchen she also longed to tear down, with violent hands, the borders of fine crochet work, the _Kante_, with which each wooden shelf was edged, and of which she had been almost as proud as had been Anna. This crochet work seemed to haunt her, for wherever it could be utilised, Anna, during those long years of willing service, had sewn it proudly on, in narrow edgings and in broad bands. Not only were all Mrs. Otway's and Rose's under-clothing trimmed with it, but it served as insertion for curtains, ran along the valance of each bed, and edged each pillow and cushion. Anna had worked miles of it since she first came to the Trellis House, for there were balls of crochet work rolled up in all her drawers, and when she was not occupied in doing some form of housework she was either knitting or crocheting. The old German woman never stirred without her little bag, itself gaily embroidered, to hold her _Hand Arbeit_; and very heartily, as Mrs. Otway knew well, did she despise the average Englishwoman for being able to talk without a crochet-hook or a pair of knitting-needles in her hands. Something--not much, but just a little--of what her mistress was feeling with regard to Major Guthrie gradually reached Anna's perceptions, and made her feel at once uncomfortable, scornful, and angry. Anna felt the deepest sympathy for her darling nursling, Miss Rose; for it was natural, warming-to-the-heart, that a young girl should feel miserable about a young man. In fact, Rose's lack of interest in marriage and in the domesticities had disturbed and puzzled good old Anna, and to her mind had been a woeful lack in the girl.