“I just can’t tell you how I hate to have you go,” Molly declared, hovering over Gretel, as she put the last things into her suit-case. “I wish you would come back and make us another visit later in the season. They say Washington is frightfully hot in August.” “I know it is,” said Gretel, “but if Percy and Barbara can stand the heat, I guess I can. It’s dear of you to want me, though, and I’ve had a perfectly beautiful time. It doesn’t seem as if I could have been here more than two weeks.” “I do wish you could have waited till Monday, and gone down with Jerry and me,” grumbled Geraldine. “It’s perfectly dreadful to think I shan’t see you again till we come to Washington in September. Jerry and I wouldn’t mind the heat a bit if Mrs. Douaine could have us in August instead.” Gretel laughed, and said she would speak to Barbara on the subject, and then they all hurried away to the waiting automobile. “Good-bye, dear,” Mrs. Cranston said, kissing Gretel affectionately. “I shall never forget the pleasure your music has given me. You must be sure to come and see me in New York next winter.” Then Mrs. Chester kissed her, and told her how much they should all miss her, and Paul and Frank shook hands, and little Daisy--who was devoted to her--began to cry, and was only comforted when Gretel promised to come and tell her more fairy tales next winter. The four girls and Jerry crowded into the automobile, and the ride to the station was a very merry one. The train was a few minutes late, and it was while they were standing chatting on the platform, awaiting its arrival, that Gretel caught another glimpse of Fritz Lippheim. He came sauntering through the station, smoking a cigar, and carrying a suit-case, and was evidently, like themselves, waiting for a train. At sight of her old friend, Gretel could not resist a little involuntary start, and Geraldine--who was standing close beside her--inquired curiously: “What’s the matter, Gretel? You look as if you were scared about something.” “There isn’t anything the matter,” answered Gretel. “I was only--oh, there’s a whistle; the train must be coming.” The train was coming, and in another moment it had thundered into the station. Gretel had one more glimpse of Fritz Lippheim getting into one of the coaches, as she and Mr. Chester mounted the steps of the parlor car. “Good-bye, Gretel, good-bye!” cried her friends in chorus, as the train began to move. “Be sure to write as soon as you get to Washington.” And Gretel returned the good-byes, and promised to write to everybody, and kept her head craned out of the car window till the platform, with the group of familiar faces on it, had disappeared from sight. Then she sank back in her chair, with a little sigh that was half regret and half relief. “It has been a lovely visit,” she said to herself. “I wonder when I shall see them all again.”