“If you do not come I shall be offended,” she protested. “I shall think you no longer care for me, and that would make me very unhappy. My aunt would be offended, too. You used to say you liked her German cookies, and it pleased her so much. Suppose we say next Tuesday. You do not go to Washington until the last of the week.” Fräulein was so very urgent that it really seemed impossible to refuse her invitation without being rude, and, as Gretel had no wish to hurt her old friend’s feelings, she finally gave a rather half-hearted consent, and the engagement was made for the following Tuesday afternoon. “If anything should happen to prevent, I will either write or telephone,” Gretel added, by way of a proviso. “Certainly, but you must not let anything prevent. My aunt is very fond of you, and she does not like many people.” Gretel was a little surprised to hear this, for on the one or two occasions when she had gone to tea at Fräulein’s aunt’s, that lady--a stout German with a dull, placid expression, had not appeared to take any particular notice of her. Indeed, Fräulein had once confided in German that her aunt was “Good, but dull.” “They must care a great deal more about each other than they used to,” she reflected, as she stood for a moment on the steps, watching her friend pass out of sight. “I suppose the war has drawn them together. It must be very hard for Germans in this country, and I do feel sorry for them, but I can’t help wishing Fräulein hadn’t urged me so much to come to tea.” Mr. Douaine was leaning back in an armchair, comfortably sipping his second glass of iced tea, when Gretel returned. He certainly did look tired and a little troubled as well. “Come and sit down, little girl,” he said, kindly. “I am glad that friend of yours is afraid of thunder-storms. I want you to myself for a little while.” “She--she is very pleasant, don’t you think so?” faltered loyal Gretel, as she took the seat by her brother’s side. “I have no doubt she can be very pleasant when she feels inclined,” Mr. Douaine answered, smiling. “She is a trifle too German to suit my taste, but that isn’t her fault. I don’t think she took to me any more than I took to her.” “She did seem rather stiff,” Gretel admitted. “Perhaps the thunder in the air made her nervous. She was awfully good to me at school, and I really am fond of her.” “Certainly you are fond of her, and there is no reason why you should not be. I dare say she is all right, but--well, the fact is, I am afraid I am prejudiced. One hears such dreadful things about the Germans in these days.” “Percy,” said Gretel, with a catch in her voice, “if Father were alive, do you believe he would approve of the things the Germans have done?” “No, Gretel, I do not,” her brother answered, decidedly. “Your father was one of the best men I have ever known in my life.” Gretel gave a long sigh of intense relief.