“You are very kind,” said Gretel, “but I don’t think I can wait. Perhaps I might be able to see Fräulein at the hospital. Mr. Becker said she was so very anxious to see me, and I am going to Washington with my brother to-night.” “You cannot go to the hospital,” said Mrs. Becker, in the same dull voice; “it would not be allowed. Even I, Anna’s aunt, cannot go. My husband will explain.” And once more motioning towards the plush-covered sofa, Mrs. Becker left the room. Gretel sat down on the edge of the sofa. There seemed nothing else to do, but she was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. She was afraid her old friend must be very ill, Mrs. Becker spoke and looked so strangely. Perhaps Fräulein had died suddenly, and they did not like to tell her. There was a moment of silence; then the sound of approaching footsteps, and Fräulein’s uncle came into the room. “I beg a thousand pardons for bringing you here under false pretenses,” he said, apologetically, “but when I telephoned an hour ago my dear niece--what is it, my dear young lady--are you not well?” With a little inarticulate cry, Gretel had sunk back on the sofa, and every particle of color had left her face. As the light from the one window fell on Mr. Becker’s face, she recognized it. She knew now why the face of that waiter at the New London hotel had seemed so familiar. That waiter was Fräulein’s uncle! CHAPTER XI GRETEL PROVES HER LOYALTY Gretel started to her feet, with a wild, half-formed idea of making her escape, but the portly form of Mr. Becker stood between her and the door, and she sat down again, feeling suddenly cold, and rather sick. “Do not agitate yourself so much,” Mr. Becker was saying, soothingly. “It is true that our beloved Anna is very ill, but the doctors have great hopes for the result of the operation. I am sorry that you have had your trip for nothing, but it could not be helped. Now that you are here, you will surely stay and have coffee with us. My wife will have it ready in a few moments.” “I am afraid I can’t possibly stay,” protested Gretel. “I only came to see Fräulein because you said she wanted me. My brother will be waiting for me. I went out in such a hurry that I forgot to mention where I was going.” Mr. Becker glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “There is plenty of time to spare,” he said; “it is not yet five o’clock. Surely you will not deprive Mrs. Becker and me of the great pleasure of offering hospitality to Hermann Schiller’s daughter?” His manner was so kind and courteous that Gretel was beginning to feel rather ashamed of her first suspicion. So she made no further effort to rise, and even forced a faint smile. “Did you know my father?” she asked, stiffly. It was the first time in her life that praise of her adored father had not caused her heart to swell with pride.