“I am so glad you feel that way, too,” she said, softly. “I was always quite sure myself, but one of the girls at school----” “You don’t mean that some one has been making you uncomfortable on account of your father!” exclaimed Mr. Douaine, indignantly, as Gretel paused in some embarrassment. “Such a thing would be simply outrageous.” “Oh, no,” said Gretel, “at least perhaps she didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable. Almost every one has been kind, the Mintons, and all the teachers, even Madame. Most of the girls are kind, too, but Ada Godfrey hates the Germans more than the rest, because her uncle was drowned on the _Lusitania_. But, Percy, I can’t help being very sorry for the Germans in this country. They didn’t cause the war, and people are so unkind to them. Fräulein was dreadfully unhappy at school.” “I have no doubt there are many loyal Germans here,” said Mr. Douaine, “and some of them have probably been treated most unjustly, but I am afraid the few must suffer for the faults of the many. Since I have been in Washington I have learned many things, which I would scarcely have believed possible six months ago. I have no objection to your seeing your German friend, especially if it gives you both pleasure, but I wouldn’t advise you to be very intimate. But, hark! isn’t that a car stopping? It must be Barbara.” And Mr. Douaine hurried away to greet his wife, leaving his sister looking unusually grave and troubled. Gretel was still looking grave when she returned to her own room. Her brother’s words, kind though they had been, had revealed his knowledge of, and belief in, something of which she had read, and heard people talk, but had never believed herself. Was it possible that people--her own father’s people--could be disloyal to the country of their adoption? Certainly Fräulein had said some strange things, but then Fräulein was so excitable. She found Dora waiting for her in her room. “Oh, Miss Gretel,” began the maid eagerly, “I’ve had such a surprise. Who do you think is down-stairs in the kitchen?” “I have no idea,” said Gretel, smiling. “Not Peter?” “Yes, Peter. They gave the boys a holiday, and Peter came up from the camp this afternoon. He’s been to see Mother, and just stopped in here for a minute on his way back. He looks just grand in his uniform.” “I should love to see him,” said Gretel. “Has he the time to spare?” “Yes, Miss, and he’s crazy to see you, and say good-bye. He thinks the regiment may be sent over very soon.” “I’ll come right down,” said Gretel, good-naturedly, and three minutes later, she was shaking hands with a tall, red-haired youth in the uniform of a United States Private. “I am so glad you waited to see me,” she said. “Why, Peter, how fine you look, and how you have grown!” In his pleasure and embarrassment, Peter blushed until his cheeks were as red as his hair. He stammered out something about hoping he hadn’t been too bold, and shook Gretel’s hand as if it were a pump-handle.