On arriving in Coblenz, after his illness in Luxemburg, Major Jimmie Hersey discovered that especially comfortable accommodations had been prepared for him. Also he was to have as his companion, a personal friend, Sergeant Donald Hackett an exception being made to the sergeant's living in the same house with his commanding officer.

The household in which the two young Americans were located was one of the many households at this time in Germany whose state of mind it would have been difficult for any outsider to have understood or explained.

The head of the family, Colonel Otto Liedermann, was an old man, now past seventy, who had once been a member of the Kaiser's own guard. His son, Captain Ludwig Liedermann had been seriously wounded six months before the close of the war, and, although at present in his own home, was still said to be too ill to leave his apartment. There was one grown daughter, Hedwig, who must have been a little over twenty years of age. The second wife, Frau Liedermann, was much younger than her husband, and her children were two charming little girls, Freia and Gretchen, who were but six and eight years old.

Outwardly the German family was apparently hospitably disposed to their enemy guests, although they made no pretence of too great friendliness. They saw that the Americans were cared for, that their food was well cooked and served. Yet only the two little girls, Freia and Gretchen, possessed of no bitter memories, were disposed to be really friendly.

And in boyish, American fashion, the two young officers, who were slightly embarrassed by living among a family with whom they had so lately been at war, returned the attitude of admiration and cordiality of the little German maids.

Freia was a slender, grave little girl with sunshiny hair and large, soft blue eyes, and Gretchen like her, only smaller and stouter with two little yellow pigtails, and dimples, in her pink cheeks.

One afternoon Major Jimmie Hersey was sitting alone in a small parlor devoted to his private use and staring at a picture on the mantel.

His work for the day was over, the drill hour was past and the soldiers, save those on special leave, had returned to their barracks.

One could scarcely have said that the young American officer was homesick, for there is something really more desolate than this misfortune. He was without a home anywhere in the world for which he could be lonely. An only son, his mother had died when he had been six months in France.

It was true that he had a sister to whom he was warmly attached, but she had married since her brother's departure for Europe, and for this reason he did not feel as if she belonged to him in the old fashion of the past.

At the moment he was looking at his mother's photograph and thinking of their happy times together when he was a boy. In spite of his present youthful appearance Major James Hersey regarded himself as extremely elderly, what with the experiences of the past years of war in France and his own personal loss, and the fact that he was approaching twenty-five.

Then from thinking of his mother, Jimmie, whose title never concerned him save when he was commanding his men, suddenly bethought himself of the young Countess Charlotta. It was odd how often he recalled a mental picture of her, when they had met but once. He had seen her again, however, on the morning when she had left the hospital at Luxemburg. Then he had watched from a window the carriage which drove her away.

Somehow the young Countess Charlotta in spite of her different surroundings, had struck him as being as lonely as he was.

Then Major Jimmie smiled, realizing that he was growing sentimental. Yet the girl's story had been a romantic one and she had confided in him so frankly. After all, one does enjoy being sorry for oneself now and then!

The young officer at this instant was disturbed in his meditations by hearing a little sound beside him.

Glancing around he beheld Gretchen, the youngest daughter of the German house. This was the first time since his arrival in her home that he had ever seen the small girl without Freia, her two years older and wiser sister.

Plainly enough by her expression Gretchen showed that she resented this misfortune. There were tears in her large light eyes and her little button of a nose was noticeably pink.

"What is it, baby?" the young officer demanded, his sympathy immediately aroused and glad also to be diverted from his own train of thought.

"It is that Freia has been allowed to go to play this afternoon with the lady from the Red Cross and the little French girl and that I must stay at home," the little girl lamented, speaking in German that her listener could readily understand. Major Hersey had studied German at school as a boy and during the last few weeks of residence in Germany had been surprised by recalling more of his German vocabulary than he had dreamed of knowing.

"Freia would like to bring FrauleinFraulein Jamisen home with her only she will not come." Gretchen sighed, although beginning already to feel more comfortable.

It was warmer in her Major's room than in any portion of their large house; a small wood fire was burning in his grate. The little girl grew disposed toward further confidences.

"People come to our home all the time to see my brother, but Freia and I are never allowed in the room, only my father. Then they whisper together so we may not hear."

Major Hersey smiled; Gretchen was a born gossip, even in her babyhood, already he had observed that she deeply enjoyed recounting the histories of her family and friends, more especially what Gretchen unconsciously must have regarded as their weaknesses.

"But your brother, Captain Liedermann, is ill, perhaps it is natural that he does not wish a little chatterbox about him all the time. If I had been confined to my bed for as many months as he has, why I should have turned into a great bear. One day you would have come in to speak to me, Gretchen, and then you would have heard a low growl and two arms would have gone around you and hugged you like this," and Major Hersey suited his action to his words.

After a little squeak half of delight and half of fear, Gretchen settled herself more comfortably in her companion's lap.

However, she was not to be deterred from continuing her own line of conversation.

In the years to come, Major Jimmie had a vision of this same little German girl, grown older and stouter, her yellow pigtails bound round her wide head, sitting beside just such a fireside as his own and talking on and on of her own little interests and concerns, forever contented if her hearer would only pretend to listen.

For the sake of the listener of the future Jimmie hoped that the small Gretchen would continue to have the same soothing effect that she was at present producing upon him.

"My brother is not always in bed," Gretchen protested. "Now and then when he thinks he is alone, and I am only peeping in at the door, he climbs out of bed and walks about his room. One day one of his friends was in the room with him and when he got up and stamped about they both laughed."

"Oh, well, any fellow would laugh if he was growing strong again after a long illness," Major Hersey answered a little sleepily, realizing that Gretchen really required no comment on his part.

"Besides, you must be mistaken, your mother told me that Captain Liedermann had not been so well of late, nothing serious, a little infection in a wound he had believed healed. As for guests who come frequently to your brother's room, why I never knew so quiet a household as your's, kleines Madchen! During the many hours I am here in this sitting-room, no one ever rings the front door bell or passes my door."

As a matter of fact Major Hersey's sitting-room was upon the first floor of the house and near its entrance. Formerly his room must have been either a small study or reception room, as the large drawing-rooms were across the hall. But these were never in use at the present time and kept always darkened, as a household symbol that all gayety and pleasure had vanished from the homes of Germany.

It occurred to Jimmie Hersey at this instant to wonder if Hedwig Liedermann had no friends. She was a handsome girl with light brown hair and eyes and a gentle manner. Surely there must be some young German officer in Coblenz who regarded her with favor! But if this were true he had never appeared at her home at any hour when Major Hersey had caught sight of him. It would not be difficult to recognize a German officer, even if he should be wearing civilian clothes.

Besides why did Fraulein Liedermann not entertain her girl friends in the drawing-rooms of her home? These rooms must have been used for social purposes before the war, as the position of Colonel Liedermann's family in Coblenz was of almost equal importance with the German nobility.

"Oh, no one comes to call upon us at the front door any longer," Gretchen added amiably. "You see you are an American officer and use this door and our friends do not wish to see you. They do not seem to like you."

"They—they don't," Major Hersey thought other things to himself, although naturally, in view of his audience, saying nothing unpleasant aloud.

How stupid he was not to have guessed what the smallest daughter of the house had just related! After all one could understand, the German viewpoint since in spite of having been told to love our enemies, how few of us have accomplished it?

It could not be agreeable to the defeated officers and soldiers of the conquered German army to enter the homes of their friends and find them occupied by the victors.

"Better run away now, Gretchen, it must be getting near your tea-time," the American officer suggested, the little girl having occasioned an unpleasant train of thought by her final chatter.

But before Gretchen, who was not disposed to hurry, had departed, they were both startled by the sudden ringing of the front door bell, the bell whose silence they had been discussing, then they heard the noise of people outside.

A little later, one of the maids having opened the door, Gretchen and Major Hersey recognized familiar voices in the hall.

The same instant Gretchen escaped.

Then followed a cry from Frau Liedermann, and Sergeant Hackett's voice and another voice replying.

Major Hersey, unable to guess what had taken place, and anxious, joined the little group outside his door.

In his arms Sergeant Hackett was carrying Freia. It was apparent that the little girl must have fallen and hurt herself, yet evidently her injury was not serious. They were accompanied by Nora Jamison and the little French girl, Louisa.

"I am so sorry, Frau Liedermann, a number of children were playing in the park and Freia must have fallen among some stones. She was so frightened I thought it best to come home with her and we had the good fortune to meet Sergeant Hackett along the way. I don't think you will find there is anything serious the matter; I am sorry if we have alarmed you. I must return now to the hospital."

At this moment unexpectedly Frau Liedermann began to weep. She was a little like a grown-up Gretchen, and one felt instinctively that she was out of place in her husband's household. He was a stern and gloomy old man, possibly too proud to reveal to strangers how bitterly angered he was by the German defeat and the disgrace of his former emperor.

But Freia, whose name came to her from the legendary German goddess, who represented "Life and light and laughter and love," was the adored child of the family and particularly of the little mother to whom she was "her wonder child."

"But you will stay and see if Freia is seriously hurt? You are a Red Cross nurse and must know better than I," Frau Liedermann pleaded. "Freia has so often said that she wished to have us meet, but you would not come to our home and I could not go to you at your American Red Cross hospital. Can the war not be over among us women at least? I have relatives, brothers and sisters in America from whom I have not heard in four years. Yet my husband thinks I am not a true German because I wish to be happy and make friends again with our former foes."

Just for a fraction of a second Nora Jamison's eyelids were lowered and her face changed color. Was it possible that she did not desire to forgive and forget as the little German frau appeared to wish? Was there not a grave near ChÂteau-Thierry and a memory which must forever divide them?

And yet of course one did not wish to be unkind.

"Please stay just a minute," Freia pleaded.

The following moment Major Hersey watched the little procession climbing the stairs to the second floor of the house where the family were living at present. First Frau Liedermann led the way, then Freia walking, but holding close to Miss Jamison's hand, Gretchen and Louisa just behind them.

Afterwards Major Hersey was glad to have been a witness to this first introduction of Nora Jamison, into the German household.