“Mr. Cranston,” said Gretel abruptly, “do you agree with Ada and Mr. Fairfax in what they said this afternoon about--about informing against people?” Stephen hesitated for a moment and his merry, boyish face grew grave. “That is a hard question to answer,” he said. “To inform against a friend is a pretty rotten thing to do, and yet these are very serious times. I think it would depend a good deal upon the circumstances in the case. One would have to be pretty sure one wasn’t mistaken.” Gretel’s face brightened, but before she could speak again, Mrs. Cranston called to her son from the other end of the boat. “Sing something, Steve; the girls want to hear you.” There was no more war talk that evening, but Stephen could not help noticing that Gretel seemed more cheerful than she had been all the afternoon, and when they reached the landing he detained Molly for a moment on the pier to say in a low tone: “I hope you are not going to let your friend Miss Godfrey bring that brat of a cousin of hers over here again. He upset Gretel Schiller a lot, and she’s a nice girl, too. I say, do you happen to know if she has many German friends?” “I know she hasn’t,” said Molly, confidently. “She told us that with the exception of our Fräulein at school, she hadn’t spoken to a single German since she was a little girl. Why do you want to know?” “Oh, I was only wondering,” returned her cousin carelessly. “It would be pretty hard for her if she had German friends in these days, that’s all. That Godfrey girl hasn’t much tact.” “Gretel is very sensitive,” said Molly, “but she hasn’t any German friends, so there isn’t anything to worry about.” And Molly tripped away to join the rest of the party. Stephen Cranston was not Gretel’s only champion, as she discovered a little later that evening. The visitors had gone and the family were on their way up-stairs to bed, when Jerry waylaid her in the front hall. “Wait a minute, Gretel,” he said in a low voice. “I just want to tell you that I’m going to punch that kid’s head to-morrow.” “What kid’s head?” demanded Gretel, pausing with her foot on the lowest stair. “The little rat who insulted you this afternoon. Geraldine has been telling me about it. I only wish I’d been there to give him what he deserved.” “See here, Jerry,” said Gretel, sternly, “you must promise me faithfully to do nothing of the kind. You will make me very uncomfortable and unhappy if you do.” Jerry looked very much surprised, and a little disgusted as well. “You don’t like being insulted, do you?” he inquired incredulously. “No, of course not. It was all rather horrid, and I was awfully upset for a few minutes, but that boy is just silly and spoiled, and besides, he’s smaller than you. He has a reason for hating the Germans; his father was lost on the _Lusitania_. He doesn’t know I am an American; he only knows my father was a German. Now, Jerry, will you promise me to let him alone, and not say another word about it?”