A ride of fifteen minutes brought her to a part of the city with which she was quite unfamiliar, and, alighting at a corner of a rather shabby street, she turned her face eastward. She was not at all afraid of not finding her way. She had been accustomed to going about the city by herself since she was a little girl, although of late years Percy and Barbara had insisted on having a maid accompany her when going any distance from home. She walked on briskly for several blocks, the neighborhood growing shabbier and more squalid as she proceeded. There was no doubt that this was a poorer part of the city than where Fräulein’s family had lived before. She was afraid her uncle must have met with business reverses lately. Poor Fräulein, how she must hate this neighborhood; she was so fond of luxury and comfort. The sidewalks were swarming with shabbily dressed children, who screamed and shouted, and at times impeded her progress. She paused at last before a dingy apartment house, and going up the steps began looking for the name she wanted. Yes, there it was: “R. Becker; third floor back.” Gretel rang Mr. Becker’s bell, and waited. In a moment the latch clicked, and Gretel--who knew the way of apartment houses--pushed open the door and stepped into a dark, narrow hall. There was no one to be seen, but a mingled odor of onions and cabbage proved that the house was inhabited, and Gretel made her way up the steep, not very clean stairs to the third floor. She had reached the top of the first flight, when a voice inquired over the banisters: “Is it Mees Schiller?” “Yes,” said Gretel. “Is that you, Mrs. Becker?” “It ess. Come right up, if you please.” Gretel quickened her steps, and in another moment was shaking hands with a stout, middle-aged woman, whom she at once recognized as Fräulein’s aunt. “Mr. Becker telephoned me,” she explained, “and I came as quickly as I could. I am so sorry about Fräulein. Is she suffering a great deal?” “Come in,” said Mrs. Becker, and she led the way to her apartment, the door of which stood open. Gretel followed her down the narrow hall to the parlor, a small room, furnished in very bad taste. “Sit down,” said the hostess, motioning to the plush-covered sofa, but Gretel did not sit down. “I haven’t long to stay,” she apologized. “Couldn’t I see Fräulein now?” Mrs. Becker heaved a deep sigh. “Our dear Anna is not here,” she said, solemnly; “they have taken her away to the hospital.” “Oh,” cried Gretel, “is she really so ill as that? Mr. Becker said she was to have an operation, but I didn’t think it was to be this afternoon. He said she wanted to see me. Did she get worse after he telephoned?” “Our dear Anna is very ill,” said Mrs. Becker, speaking as if she were repeating a lesson. “They have taken her to the hospital. Will you not sit down and take coffee with us? I will bring it in at once.”