“I have been dismissed,” cried Fräulein, returning to her grievance, “dismissed for no fault, except that I am a German--one of the hated race. I am turned out like a dog; I may starve for aught they care.” “Oh, that is terrible!” gasped Gretel. “Do you mean that Miss Minton didn’t pay you your salary?” “Pay! What is pay? Do they think because they offer one a little money everything is to be forgiven and forgotten? Yes, she has paid me for the rest of the season, but how long will that money last, and when it is gone what am I to do? My uncle will only let me share his home while I have money to pay my board, and who will employ a German now that this country has gone mad, and joined our enemies?” “I know it’s going to be very hard for you,” murmured Gretel. “Percy gives me a very large allowance--much more than I really need--if you would let me help you----” Fräulein’s face softened. “You are a dear, generous child,” she said, “but it would never be allowed. If your brother were to find out that you were helping a German, your allowance would be stopped on the instant. Of course, you might be able to keep him in ignorance. I am not thinking of myself but of others. Are you obliged to render an account of how your allowance is spent?” “No,” said Gretel; “Percy and Barbara are very kind. They never ask how I spend my money, but I always tell them. I couldn’t do a thing I thought they might disapprove of without telling them. It wouldn’t be fair.” Fräulein sighed and shook her head. “Then you may be quite certain you will never be able to help a German in distress,” she said, “but you have a kind heart, and there are not many kind hearts in this cruel world now.” There was something very pathetic in the quiver of Fräulein’s voice, and in her red, swollen eyes, and all at once Gretel found herself recalling the dingy little flat, where her friend’s relatives lived. After all, it was very sad to be alone in an enemy’s country in war time. Before she quite realized what she was doing, her arms were round Fräulein’s neck again, and she was kissing her, and murmuring in her half-forgotten German: “Dear Fräulein, I love you very much, and if I can ever help you in any way, indeed, indeed I will try.” An hour and a half later, Gretel was standing at the hall window, watching the station bus, with Fräulein and her belongings inside, disappearing from sight in the gathering dusk. In spite of herself, she could not help a little sigh of relief. “Poor Fräulein,” she said to herself, “I’m terribly sorry for her, of course, but I can’t help feeling rather glad she’s gone. I am sure she’ll be much happier with her own people, even if she does think she won’t.”