Our arrival was obviously an extraordinary event, as well it might be; but if the people did conjecture at all, they showed it only in a suppressed kind of excitement. There was no atmosphere of suspicion, and the few curious questions the woman asked us were easily parried. There were three girls and the boy in the family, all approaching maturity. While the woman bustled about preparing a breakfast for us, two of the girls and the boy made ready to go out. I did not like that, and tried to find out where they were going. “You’re going to church, I suppose?” This to the eldest girl. “Yes,” shyly. “Have you got one near by?” “No. We go to Haltern to church. My sister will be back soon from the first service.” So there was a fourth girl! “Did she go to Haltern, too?” “Yes.” “It seems a long way to walk on a day like this.” Silence. “You do get up early, even on Sundays, don’t you? I thought I heard you about very early, this morning.” “We get up at five o’clock,” broke in the old woman. “You don’t say so. I always thought there was little farm work to be done in winter. You don’t seem to take advantage of your slack time.” “There’s lots to do.” And she ran through a list of duties. “Do you feel the war as much as we do in town? How are you off for food?” “We manage all right.” “Well, we don’t. We’re chemists in an ammunition factory, and we’re worked to death and don’t get much to eat. There’s nothing one can buy. We applied for a holiday, being tired of the everlasting long hours, and got three weeks. A bit too late for Muller, here. He oughtn’t to have come, feeling as he did.” The coffee was brewed, and bread, butter, and a plate of cut sausage were on the table. Both of us went at it cheerfully. In the middle of the meal the fourth girl, the eldest, came in, and the boy and his two sisters left. This was about half-past nine. When I had an opportunity, I whispered to Wallace: “We’ve got to get away from here soon after eleven. Play up.” Then I addressed him aloud: “What do you think we’d better do?” “I hardly know. I feel pretty rotten still.” Turning to the woman, I asked: “It’s about two and a half hours to Klein Recken, isn’t it?” “About that.” “Do you think you can manage that, Muller?” I looked seriously at Wallace, who understood and answered, equally serious: “No; I’m afraid it would be too much for me.” “Well, then, we had better go back to Haltern and on to Cologne from there. Let me see what train we can catch.” Luckily we had kept our time-table. It came in handy now. “There’s a train at eleven-fifty-four to Cologne. We might catch that, don’t you think?” “Anything you like, Erhardt.” “Right-o.” To the woman: “How long do you reckon to the station in Haltern from here?” “You can do it in a little over three quarters of an hour.” “That’s what I make it. We’ll leave here at eleven.” * * * * *