“I’d rather stay here. The noise in the front of the house drives me frantic. I was never in town at this season before in my life. If it doesn’t get cooler in a day or two, I shall have to persuade your father to take us to the shore.” “You wouldn’t go away now, Mother, would you?--not before Gretel is found.” Mrs. Barlow sighed again, and passed her hand wearily across her forehead. “If there were only a chance of the dear child’s being found,” she murmured, “but it all seems so hopeless. A week yesterday since she disappeared, and not the faintest clue yet. Oh, Geraldine, darling, just think, it might have happened to you!” “Well, it didn’t happen to me, Mother,” said Geraldine, a little impatiently. “Of course they’ll find Gretel; they’ve got to find her.” Geraldine’s voice broke in a quickly suppressed sob. “There you go again,” moaned her mother, reproachfully. “I can’t say a word without your beginning to cry. I don’t care what your father says; I shall insist on giving you a dose of bromide to-night. Your nerves are completely unstrung.” “I’m all right, Mummy,” said Geraldine, tremulously; “don’t bother about me. I’ll fan you, and if you lie still, perhaps you’ll fall asleep. I’m sure a nap will do you good.” “I dare say it would,” her mother admitted, “but it seems as if I couldn’t sleep. Every time I drop off I have such frightful dreams. I can’t get the thought of that poor child out of my mind for a moment. It’s so horrible to think that no one knows what has become of her. Sometimes I almost wish I could believe she had run away of her own accord.” “Mother!” cried Geraldine, indignantly. “How can you say such a thing? You know Gretel wouldn’t run away. She loved us all dearly; she wouldn’t have worried her brother for the world. Oh, Mother, how can you?” Geraldine’s voice shook ominously. “There, there, dear,” Mrs. Barlow said, soothingly, “of course I know she didn’t. Gretel is a dear child; she always was. I only mean that almost anything would be better than this terrible suspense.” “Mother,” said Geraldine, abruptly, “do you suppose any one believes Gretel went away on purpose?” “My dear child, how should I know? Whom have I seen, shut up here all this week? Not a living soul except your father and you children. Of course, your father says there has been some talk, which is only natural, under the circumstances. It was unfortunate that Gretel’s father should have been a German, but no one who really knew the child could possibly believe a word against her.” Geraldine sprang to her feet. “I’m going away for a few minutes,” she said, hurriedly. “You won’t mind, will you, Mummy? I’ll be right back.” “Oh, no, I won’t mind,” her mother answered, languidly. “I think perhaps I might drop off to sleep if I were alone. Go and try to amuse yourself. You were going to do so much knitting for the soldiers, and you haven’t taken a stitch in a week.”