"And then, my darling little one, there will be a proper
betrothal, will there not?"

Rose nodded. "Yes, I suppose there will," she said
in German.

"And perhaps a war wedding," went on Anna, her
face beaming. "There are many such just now in
Witanbury. In my country they began the first day
of the War."

"I know." Rose smiled. "One of the Kaiser's sons
was married in that way. Don't you remember my
bringing you an account of it, Anna?" She did not
wait for an answer. "Well, I must hurry back now."

The old woman went off into her kitchen, and so
through the scullery into her cosy bedroom.

The walls of that quaint, low-roofed apartment
were gay with oleographs, several being scenes from
_Faust,_ and one, which Anna had had given to her
nearly forty years ago, showed the immortal Charlotte,
still cutting bread and butter.

On the dressing-table, one at each end, were a
pair of white china busts of Bismarck and von Moltke.
Anna had brought these back from Berlin three years
before. Of late she had sometimes wondered whether
it would be well to put them away in one of the three
large, roomy cupboards built into the wall behind her
bed. One of these cupboards already contained several
securely packed parcels which, as had been particularly
impressed on Anna, must on no account be
disturbed, but there was plenty of room in the two
others. Still, no one ever came into her oddly situated
bedroom, and so she left her heroes where they were.

After taking off her things, she extracted the two-shilling
piece out of the pocket where it had lain

[[234]]

p233 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p234w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p235

v?