“I knew the school was to close on the fourteenth, and felt sure you would all leave by the morning train, as you did last year. I could not let the day pass without seeing you; I have missed you so terribly.” There was gentle reproach in Fräulein’s tone, and it made Gretel vaguely uncomfortable, although she could not help being flattered as well. “I hope you have gotten my letters,” she said, anxiously. “Oh, yes, and it was good of you to write, but letters are not the same as speaking face to face, and I have missed my favorite pupil sadly.” Fräulein put out her hand, and Gretel, supposing she was expected to take it, did so, and had her fingers squeezed affectionately. “You wrote that you were going as governess to a German family,” she said. “I thought you would have left New York before I came back.” “I did leave,” said Fräulein. “I went to Long Island for a week, but I did not like the family. The children did not treat me with proper respect.” “And are you back at your aunt’s now?” Gretel asked. “Yes, and I am happier there than I ever expected to be. There is nothing to draw people together like a great common sorrow.” “Oh, has anything dreadful happened in your family?” Gretel’s voice was full of real concern now. “Not in our family, but our country--the Fatherland. I was alluding to the war.” “Oh,” said Gretel, “of course; I didn’t think. But your uncle is too old for the draft; he won’t have to go, will he?” “Certainly not,” said Fräulein, “and thank God for it. You would not have a German fight against his country?” “No, of course not, but your uncle has been in this country so many years. He is an American citizen, is he not?” “That fact cannot make him untrue to the Fatherland,” said Fräulein, reproachfully. “What a strange idea you Americans have of patriotism. Your father would say so if he were living to-day.” “I don’t think he would,” said Gretel, decidedly. “He might still love his country, but he would not approve of the terrible things Germany has done. He would be loyal to America, where he had lived so many years. Hasn’t your uncle made most of his money here?” “Money, money,” repeated the German woman, scornfully, “you Americans are always thinking of money. As if getting rich were the only important thing in this world. My uncle would not allow such a sordid consideration to interfere with his duty. He is a true patriot, and his country comes before everything else.” “You like him better than you used to, don’t you?” said Gretel, innocently. “You always said he was so hard and unkind, and did not make your aunt very happy.” Fräulein colored and bit her lip. “I did not understand him as well as I do now,” she explained. “One sometimes makes mistakes. I have learned many things in these sad months.” “I am glad you like him better,” said Gretel; “it must make living in his house much pleasanter. Are you looking for another position?”