It was late in the afternoon. As it happened, Greta had taken the children with her to deliver clothes. They could at least sit in the boat to watch one basket while she delivered the other. In consequence, no dingy children were at the Klein gate when Jean and the other two girls entered. Even the dogs were away with their master, who was as a rule more kind to them than to his children.

The gate of a rickety fence stood open. A few hens ran about the yard with some long-legged young chickens. The girls entered the yard, hesitating a little as they walked up to the door, which stood open revealing anything but a well-kept room inside. They rapped, intending to ask if they might find the well, for Jean had her collapsible cup with her. There was no response.

“Out in the field, I suppose,” said Molly. “Let’s see if we can find the well. It can’t do any harm, and I’m perishing for a drink. That woods was fearfully hot, I thought.”

Turning from the door, the girls started around the house. There were two old pumps, and while the girls were guessing which was the well and which was the cistern, they heard the sound of crying, a faint moaning, further back in the yard, it seemed. Toward the left there stood an old barn and sheds, with the sty, odorous and muddy. But toward the right there was a tangle of bushes and fruit trees, to all appearances from where they stood.

They listened, Molly with her fingers to her lips. “Perhaps we’d better go on,” whispered Nan.

“No,” returned Molly, “some one might be hurt. Wait. I’ll see.”

Molly tiptoed in the direction of the sound, but as she went loud sobbing broke out. Jean and Nan were for getting away. That did not sound like any one who was injured. Perhaps they would intrude. But Molly was obviously seeing something or some one. She was looking soberly ahead, then put her head on one side to listen. Molly was as careful as they would be not to be intrusive. They would leave it to her.

“Sakes, Jean, listen!” whispered Nan. “It’s German.”

“Meine Greta, meine Greta, meine Greta!” they heard repeated.

“Why, this must be where Greta lives,” said Jean. “What’s happened to her?” Jean started toward Molly, but Molly, her face alert, was listening and waved Jean back. They heard a sobbing outburst of German words that were unintelligible to them.

“Molly knows German,” Nan reminded Jean, and Jean nodded assent. Both girls were puzzled and uneasy. There must be some reason why Molly was listening where anybody would think she had no right to be. There was a pause and then another outburst of speech, as if the person, a woman, were talking to some one, even explaining. It was very curious. Then the first expression, “Meine Greta, meine kleine Greta,” was moaned, with “liebchen” and a few other words that the girls knew.

“From the looks of Greta, I wouldn’t say that she looked like anybody’s ‘liebchen,’” whispered Jean. “She looks more like some poor step-child to me.”

But Molly was picking a silent way back to them. Her face was very sober now. She waved them toward the gate, her finger on her lips; and when she reached them she hurried them out.

“I’ve heard something dreadful, girls, and we must get out of sight as soon as possible, before that poor woman has any idea that there was any one there to hear her. Let’s get right down to shore. Maybe some of the girls are out in the boat and will see us and come for us. I want to get away as quickly as I can. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get over being shocked. Isn’t Greta the name of that girl who brings us things once in a while?”

“Why, of course, Molly. You know that.”

“Do I? I don’t know what I do know. There she is now! And her boat is coming to this landing! So I suppose that is where the Kleins live.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that, Molly. Yes, it’s just about the location, I suppose, that Jimmy said. You can see the peninsula from here, of course.” The girls had reached the tree-sheltered shore just as Greta sent her boat flying toward them. “Wait,” said Molly, “I want to speak to her.”

“You want to tell her what happened?”

“Yes, some of it.”

The girls approached the rude dock. Greta smiled a real welcome, for to see the girls was worth a day’s hard work. She lifted the children out and told them to go on home; then Molly laid a hand on her arm. “We stopped to get a drink at a house up there. Is that where you live?”

“Yes. That is what is left of the Klein farm.”

“Well, we have just been there. We walked all the way back to the door, which was open, but no one answered our knock. I was terribly thirsty, so we went around the house and were just going to get a drink when we heard some one crying. I thought that somebody might be hurt, so I stepped back to see. It was a large, stoutly built woman, but she was not hurt, and I think you ought to know what she said. Could you meet us very early to-morrow morning? Jean said that you were out early sometimes.”

Greta was impressed with Molly’s manner. “Yes,” she answered. “Where shall I meet you? Shall I come all the way?”

“If you can, and I will have breakfast for you, too.”

“Oh, how kind you are! But I can’t be dressed well enough. This is the best I have.”

“Some wouldn’t think that our middies and bloomers were much in the way of clothes,” laughed Jean. “Please come.”

Molly did not laugh, but she said, “I must talk to you, Greta, and if you can come to us it will be a favor, much easier than for us to come out here, or near by. How soon can you come?”

“The earlier the better for me. I have to get back to work before my mother gets around. I take an early swim and bath in the lake. Then I go back to do the feeding and milking, to get breakfast and start the washing when we have any.”

Molly seemed to know instinctively that Greta could not get permission to come. “While we talk, you can drink a cup of hot cocoa with us and eat a plate of bacon and eggs with toast. Then if you have to hurry back it is all right. Come about five o’clock. We are planning an early hike anyway. And it will be much better if your mother does not know that we were there. Need you notice her tears?”

“I’ve seen her that way before, though not very often, and I never speak of it. I did once,—and I—was sorry.”

“All right. We’ll be looking for you. Nobody but Jean and Nan will know why we want to see you specially.”

Greta promised to come at five o’clock and stay long enough for breakfast. The girls hurried away, though Greta offered to take them across in the boat. “Perhaps I will come by boat to-morrow morning,” she said.

What could Molly have to tell her? Did she mean that her mother talked to her? No, for she said that it would be best for her mother not to know that they had been there. It was a mystery. But that it was important she was sure. Her imagination was busy, but she could not guess what it might be.