It was very pleasant in the Douaines’ garden that lovely September afternoon, and so Gretel thought, as she lay back in her steamer-chair, under the big apple-tree, and gazed out across the wide stretch of lawn to the broad Potomac, sparkling in the afternoon sunshine. She had been reading, but her book had fallen unheeded into her lap, and her thoughts were busy with many things. She was a very pale, fragile-looking Gretel, a mere shadow of the rosy-cheeked girl who had waved good-bye to her friends at the New London station, a little more than two months earlier. The long nervous illness, which had followed that terrible week of imprisonment, had told cruelly upon her strength. All that love and care could do had been done, but for days the poor child had lain in an only half-conscious condition, varied by fits of hysteria, very painful to witness. As soon as she was able to be moved, the Douaines had taken her to a quiet little place on the Jersey shore, and there she and Barbara had remained for weeks, while Mr. Douaine made flying trips between Washington and the cottage by the sea. As Gretel’s strength returned her nerves grew calmer, and those weeks by the sea had been very restful and pleasant. It was only a week since they had returned to Washington, and Gretel, although improving a little each day, was still far from strong, and found lying in a steamer-chair under the trees more agreeable than any more active occupation. The very thought of tennis or long walks made her head ache, but she was very happy, and as she lay there, gazing out over the wide river, she smiled contentedly to herself. For had not Barbara gone to the station to meet Jerry and Geraldine, who were coming for their long promised visit to Washington?

It was all so quiet and peaceful; it seemed impossible to realize that only a few miles away the fate of nations was being discussed, and that in France guns were booming, and men dying by thousands every day. The American boys were fighting for their country, and to save civilization, and at that moment Gretel’s heart swelled with pride. She knew now, more than ever before in her life, what it meant to love one’s country.

Her reflections were interrupted by the sight of her brother, in his white flannels, strolling across the lawn in her direction. She knew that Percy was taking a much-needed holiday from the war office, and had been playing golf all the afternoon.

“Feeling pretty fit to-day, little girl?” Mr. Douaine asked, kindly, as he threw himself into the empty chair by Gretel’s side.

“Oh, yes,” his sister assured him, cheerfully. “I am ever so much stronger. I am sure I shall be able to go back to school the first of October.”

Mr. Douaine smiled and shook his head.

“No school till after Christmas,” he said, decidedly. “Don’t you think you can manage to be happy with us till then?” “I am always happy with you and Barbara,” Gretel answered, “but I shall hate to get behind with my lessons. Don’t you really think I shall be well enough to go back next month?”

“I am afraid not, dear. The doctors say you must have a good long rest before you begin to study again. You have had a terrible strain, you know, and people don’t get over such things in a week. You may begin practising before long, but that is really all we can allow.”

Gretel sighed resignedly. After all, there was something rather pleasant in the thought of just drifting along like this, day after day, and being taken care of by the people she loved best in the world.

“I am afraid I shall be dreadfully spoiled if I stay here much longer,” she said. “Every one is so kind to me. Did you see those lovely roses that nice Mrs. Allen sent? And that dear old lady in the house across the way has sent some delicious hothouse grapes. Then I keep getting such wonderful letters from all my friends. I wonder what makes people so kind.”

“There are a good many kind people in the world,” her brother said, smiling, “and then you must remember that you are quite the heroine of the hour. You and Fritz Lippheim are sharing the honors of having unearthed that gang of spies.”

Gretel laughed.

“I really don’t see what I had to do with it,” she said. “It was all Fritz. You can’t think, Percy, how happy it makes me to know there at least is one German who is working for the United States. I feel quite sure that if Father were alive he would be on our side, too, and so does Fritz. He told me so the other day.”

“Fritz is a splendid fellow,” Mr. Douaine said heartily; “I only wish we had more like him. I met him this afternoon, by the way, and he has promised to come to dinner to-morrow, and bring his violin.”

Gretel’s face was radiant.

“I love to hear Fritz play,” she said. “It always makes me think of Father, and the old days in the studio. If I shut my eyes I can almost see it all as it used to be.”

“You are a loyal little soul, Gretel,” her brother said, giving her hand an affectionate pat. “You never forget the old friends or the old times. But hark! isn’t that the motor? I shouldn’t be surprised if the twins had arrived.”

The twins had arrived, and in a very few minutes Gretel and Geraldine were hugging each other rapturously, while Jerry stood by, grinning with satisfaction, but boylike, quite unable to express his feelings as his more excitable twin was expressing hers.Of course the two girls had a great deal to say to each other, for, except for a passing glimpse on the day Gretel was brought home, they had not met since their parting at the New London station.

“It’s the grandest thing in the world to be together again,” declared Geraldine. “I was never quite so happy in my life as when Mrs. Douaine’s letter came, saying you were well enough to have us. And isn’t Washington wonderful? We saw such interesting things coming from the station. I’m so glad you are in the country, though; it’s so much nicer than being in that hot, crowded city. It’s lovely here, and that view of the river is just perfect. Mrs. Douaine says we can go to Mount Vernon some day, and see the house where George Washington lived. You are looking ever so much better than I expected, Gretel.”

“I am almost well,” said Gretel. “You are looking wonderfully well, too, and so is Jerry. Camp life must have agreed with you both.”

“It was great!” Jerry affirmed. “I say, Gretel, did Geraldine write you about that six-pound trout she caught? I wish you could have seen her hauling it in. She’s a real sport, and no mistake.”

Mr. and Mrs. Douaine went indoors, leaving the young people to themselves.

“We will have tea out here in half an hour,” Mrs. Douaine said, “and in the meantime I know you have a great deal to say to each other.” “Your sister-in-law always does just the right thing,” remarked Geraldine, admiringly, as their host and hostess walked away to the house. “She’s lovely, and so is your brother, but it’s ever so much pleasanter not to have grown-ups about, listening to everything we say. Oh, I am so glad to see you looking more like yourself, Gretel dear. I never shall forget how you looked that day you came home, and Mr. Douaine carried you up-stairs. I thought you were dead at first, but Mr. Lippheim said you had only fainted, and then you opened your eyes, and smiled at us, and it was such a relief. Do you remember it all?”

“Not very well,” said Gretel. “I only remember seeing Barbara’s face, and being so thankful to be at home, but it’s all rather vague and confused. It was days before I really began to understand all that had happened.”

“I wish I could see that Lippheim chap,” said Jerry. “I’ve always wanted to talk to a Secret Service man.”

“You will have your wish soon, then,” said Gretel, “for Fritz is coming to dinner to-morrow. He often brings his violin, and he and Barbara play duets together. He’s doing splendid work, Percy says, but of course it’s all secret, and he never mentions it.”

“Of course not,” said Jerry. “Oh, I say, I think it’s a shame I’m only fourteen. I’d give my head to be in the thick of it all.”

Gretel and Geraldine looked rather grave, and Gretel said gently:

“It isn’t all just excitement and adventure, Jerry. Peter Grubb has been wounded. He has lost his left arm. His family only heard it this week, and poor Dora is so upset.”

A shadow crossed Jerry’s bright face.

“Poor chap,” he said, regretfully; “it’s pretty tough to lose an arm, but to lose a leg would be worse. Anyhow, he’s fought for his country, and that’s something.”

“Yes, it is something,” Gretel agreed, “and Peter is such a clever boy I am sure he will get on. But it is all very sad. I wish this dreadful war would end.”

“Not till Germany is thoroughly licked,” protested Jerry. “We can’t stop fighting till then, even if it takes ten years.”

“Jerry,” said Gretel, abruptly, “there’s something I want to know, but nobody will talk to me about it. What has become of the Beckers?”

The twins exchanged glances, and Geraldine shook her head warningly at her brother.

“I don’t believe you’d better ask, Gretel dear,” she said. “If your family wanted you to know I guess they would tell you.”

But Gretel was not to be put off. She was only fifteen, and had a fair amount of curiosity.

“I think I have a right to know,” she said a little impatiently. “After spending a whole week in that dreadful place, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be told what happened afterwards.”

“We don’t know ourselves exactly what did happen,” Jerry admitted. “You see, that man Becker was a German spy. He was arrested, and—well, they never tell what happens to spies in war time; they just disappear.” Gretel shuddered, and hid her face for a moment on Geraldine’s shoulder.

“You don’t mean they—oh, it’s too horrible! He was a dreadful man, of course, but I don’t like to think—oh, I don’t like to think——” and Gretel, who was still far from strong, burst into tears.

Geraldine’s arms were round her in a moment.

“You ought not to have said it, Jerry,” she said, reproachfully; “Mr. and Mrs. Douaine will be very angry. There, there, Gretel darling, don’t cry. We really don’t know anything; perhaps they only put him in prison. Anyhow, Mrs. Becker and FrÄulein are all right. You know it was FrÄulein who gave Mr. Lippheim the Beckers’ address. Everybody was grateful to her, and Mr. Douaine gave her the money to take her aunt out to Milwaukee, where they have some relatives, who are quite well off, and will take care of them. I saw poor old FrÄulein the day before they went, and she did look dreadfully. She was so worried about you, and so ashamed of what had happened. I don’t believe she will ever brag about the Fatherland again.”

“Poor FrÄulein,” sighed Gretel, drying her eyes. “It was all very terrible for her, and she was always kind to me at school. I hope Percy has her address, for I should like to write to her, and tell her I understand. She never meant to do wrong.”

“I had a letter from Molly Chester yesterday,” said Geraldine, anxious to change the subject. “She knew Jerry and I were coming to Washington, and sent lots of love to you. She says Stephen Cranston is somewhere on a submarine chaser, but of course they don’t know where, because no one is allowed to tell. Jimmy Fairfax has left, too, and they think he is on his way overseas. Molly says Mrs. Godfrey and Ada are coming to Washington for a few days, so we may see them. It seems that Davenport boy is still with them, but he has behaved much better lately, and he and Paul get on quite well together.”

“I had a lovely letter from Mrs. Cranston,” said Gretel. “It was just as bright and cheerful as could be, but I know how hard it must have been for her to let Stephen go. I’ve had wonderful letters from everybody, but Barbara won’t let me answer many of them yet. She says I am not strong enough. I’ve kept some of the letters to show you, Geraldine. Miss Minton’s was the biggest surprise of all; it made me cry, it was so kind. I had no idea she liked me so much. Miss Laura wrote, too, and all the teachers.”

“Of course they did,” said Jerry. “You are a heroine, you know. People always write to heroines.”

“I’m not a heroine at all,” protested Gretel, blushing. “I didn’t do anything more than any one else would have done under the circumstances. There really wasn’t anything else to do. I had to be loyal to my country; we all do.”

“The thing that beats me,” remarked Jerry, reflectively, “is the way you used to call yourself a coward.”

“Well, and so I am,” said Gretel innocently. “I am a terrible coward, and the worst of it is, I am afraid I always shall be.”

Jerry burst into a peal of derisive laughter, and Geraldine gave her friend an ecstatic hug.

“You are a goose, Gretel,” remarked Jerry, when he had recovered himself sufficiently to speak. “You are the first person I ever heard of who didn’t even know when she had been brave.”

“But I wasn’t brave,” protested Gretel; “I was terribly frightened all the time. Oh, Jerry, it’s beautiful to have people say such kind things, but I’m afraid they aren’t true, for I really don’t deserve them. It wasn’t brave to refuse to swear not to tell what that man had said. It was just my plain duty. I am an American, you know.”

It was half an hour later. Mr. and Mrs. Douaine had rejoined the young people on the lawn, and they were all having a merry tea together. Gretel looked very happy as she lay back in her steamer-chair, and watched her companions with shining eyes. “Are you tired, pussy?” her brother asked, anxiously, as he brought her her tea. “You must tell us the moment you begin to feel tired, you know.”

“Not one bit,” Gretel declared heartily. “Oh, Percy, it’s so wonderful to be with you all again, and know that I am safe, and that nothing dreadful is going to happen!”

“You are quite safe,” her brother assured her, smiling, “and you are not a bit happier to know it than we are. So drink your tea while it’s hot, and try not to think about anything except that the Barlows are here, and we are all going to have some good times together. Hello! here comes Dora with the card-tray. Visitors, I suppose. What a bother.”

“I think these must be some people to see you, Gretel,” said Mrs. Douaine, glancing at the cards Dora handed her. “Miss Ada Godfrey and Master Archie Davenport. Isn’t Ada Godfrey one of the Minton girls?”

“Yes,” said Gretel, “and Geraldine said she was coming to Washington, but I didn’t expect to see her so soon. May they come out here, Barbara?”

“Certainly, dear. Show them out, Dora, and bring some fresh tea.”

“I didn’t know the Davenport boy would come with Ada,” remarked Geraldine, looking a little troubled, as Dora tripped away. “He and Jerry weren’t very good friends. Now, Jerry, you will behave, won’t you?”

Geraldine’s tone was pleading, and she looked so grave that Mrs. Douaine inquired in some surprise:

“Why shouldn’t Jerry behave?”

“I punched that fellow’s head once,” explained Jerry, calmly, “but you needn’t worry, Geraldine, I sha’n’t do it again. I guess he’s learned his lesson all right.”

The conversation was cut short by the sight of two approaching figures, and Mrs. Douaine rose, and went forward to greet the visitors.

“You have come to see Gretel, I know,” she said, holding out her hand in her kind, cordial way. “She will be delighted to see you, but she isn’t very strong yet, so please be just a little careful not to excite her by talking of what has happened. We are trying to keep her from thinking too much about her terrible experience.”

“We’ll be careful,” promised Ada, “and we can only stay a few minutes. Mother and my aunt are waiting for us in the car. We only reached Washington this morning, but we couldn’t wait any longer without seeing Gretel.”

“Well, here she is,” said Gretel’s sister-in-law, smiling, and leading the way to the big apple-tree. “She isn’t quite as fat as we would like, but she is improving every day. The Barlow twins are here, too; they have come to make us a visit.”

The three girls greeted each other heartily, and Ada kissed Gretel with more affection than she had ever shown before. Jerry nodded to Archie in a friendly manner, as though to imply that bygones were bygones, but Archie Davenport did not return the greeting. He was very red, and looked so uncomfortable and embarrassed, that Jerry suddenly found himself feeling rather sorry for him.

“We are going to be in Washington a week,” Ada was explaining, as she held Gretel’s hand, and looked anxiously into her pale face. “Mother and Auntie came to see some old friends, and brought Archie and me along. They thought it would be a nice little trip for us before we go back to school. Miss Minton’s opens on the first, you know, and Archie is going to Pomfrey. Mother thought we ought to have telephoned before coming to see you, but Archie and I simply couldn’t wait. You said you must see Gretel this afternoon, didn’t you, Archie?”

Archie had grown redder than ever, but with a mighty effort, he pulled himself together and stepped forward.

“I—I want to apologize,” he stammered, holding out his hand to Gretel. “I thought you were a Hun—I mean a German—and I said things I oughtn’t to about you, but I made a mistake. You’re an American all right, and—and a bully one, too, and—and if you’ll shake hands, and say you forgive me for being such a beast, I’ll be terribly glad.”

“Well, of all the funny things that ever happened!” ejaculated Jerry, flinging himself at full length on the grass, when the visitors had left. “Who would ever have believed that little cad would have turned out so decent after all! I’m rather sorry I gave him quite such a dressing down, but perhaps it helped to bring him to his senses.”

“It wasn’t that that did it,” said Geraldine; “it was finding out what a mistake he had made about Gretel. But Mrs. Douaine says we are not to talk about disagreeable things to-day, so Gretel and I are going up to her room, and you needn’t expect to see us again till dinner-time, because we’ve got a great deal to say to each other that wouldn’t interest a boy at all.” And Geraldine twined her arm round her friend’s waist, and led her resolutely away to the house.

THE END

DOROTHY BROWN

By NINA RHOADES

Illustrated by Elizabeth Withington Large 12mo

THIS is considerably longer than the other books by this favorite writer, and with a more elaborate plot, but it has the same winsome quality throughout. It introduces the heroine in New York as a little girl of eight, but soon passes over six years and finds her at a select family boarding school in Connecticut. An important part of the story also takes place at the Profile House in the White Mountains. The charm of school-girl friendship is finely brought out, and the kindness of heart, good sense and good taste which find constant expression in the books by Miss Rhoades do not lack for characters to show these best of qualities by their lives. Other less admirable persons of course appear to furnish the alluring mystery, which is not all cleared up until the very last.

“There will be no better book than this to put into the hands of a girl in her teens and none that will be better appreciated by her.”—Kennebec Journal.

MARION’S VACATION

By NINA RHOADES

Illustrated by Bertha G. Davidson 12mo

THIS book is for the older girls, Marion being thirteen. She has for ten years enjoyed a luxurious home in New York with the kind lady who feels that the time has now come for this aristocratic though lovable little miss to know her own nearest kindred, who are humble but most excellent farming people in a pretty Vermont village. Thither Marion is sent for a summer, which proves to be a most important one to her in all its lessons.

“More wholesome reading for half grown girls it would be hard to find; some of the same lessons that proved so helpful in that classic of the last generation ‘An Old Fashioned Girl’ are brought home to the youthful readers of this sweet and sensible story.”—Milwaukee Free Press.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston