Good Old Anna. Marie Belloc Lowndes

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СКАЧАТЬ your son, Mr. Hegner?” she asked. “I suppose he is in Germany now? You must feel rather anxious about him.”

      He hesitated oddly, and looked round him before he spoke. Then, vanquished, maybe, by the obvious sincerity and kindness of the speaker, he answered, in German, and almost in a whisper. “He is, I fear, by now on his way to the frontier. But may I ask a favour of the gracious lady? Do not speak of my son to the people of Witanbury.”

      “Then he was never naturalised?” Mrs. Otway also spoke in a low voice—a voice full of pity and concern.

      “No, no,” said Mr. Hegner hastily. “There was no necessity for him to be. His work was mostly, you see, over there.”

      “Still he was educated here, surely?”

      “That is so, gracious lady. He talks English better even than I do. He and I did consider the question of his taking out a certificate. Then we decided that, as he would be so much in Germany, it was better he should remain German. But his wife is an English girl.”

      “How sorry you must be now that he did not naturalise!” she exclaimed.

      An odd look came over Manfred Hegner’s face. “Yes, it is very regretful—the more so that it would do me harm if it were known in the town that I had a son in the German Army. But he will not fight against the English,” he added hastily. “No one will do that but the German sailors—is not that so, madam?”

      “I really don’t know.”

      “If at any time the gracious lady should hear anything of the sort, I should be grateful—nay, far more than grateful if she will let me know it!” He had lapsed back into German, and Mrs. Otway smiled very kindly at him.

      “Yes, I will certainly let you know anything I hear. I know how very anxious you must be about this sad state of things.”

      Mrs. Otway had left the shop, and she was already some way back across the Market Place, when there came the rather raucous sound of an urgent voice in her ear. Startled, she turned round. The owner of the Witanbury Stores stood by her side.

      “Pardon, pardon!” he said breathlessly. “But would you, gracious lady, ask your servant” (he used the German word “Stütze”) “if she could make it convenient to join our gathering this evening at nine o’clock? Frau Anna Bauer is so very highly respected among the Germans here that we should like her to be present.”

      “Certainly I will arrange for Anna to come,” answered Mrs. Otway. “But you may not be aware, Mr. Hegner, that my cook has become to all intents and purposes quite English—without, of course,” she hastily corrected herself, “giving up her love for the Fatherland. She has only one relation left in Germany, a married niece in Berlin. Her own daughter is the wife of an Englishman, a tradesman in London.”

      “That makes no difference,” said Manfred Hegner; “she will be welcome, most heartily welcome, to-night! This is the moment, as the Reverend Mr. Dean so well put it to me, when all Germans should stick together, and consult as to the wisest and best thing to do in their own interests.”

      “Yes, indeed, Mr. Hegner. I quite agree with the Dean. But do not do anything to upset my poor old Anna. She really is not involved in the question at all. She has lived with me nearly twenty years, and my daughter and I regard her far more as a friend than as a servant. The fact that she is German is an accident—the merest accident! Nothing in her life, thank God, will be changed for the worse. And, Mr. Hegner? I should like to say one more thing.” She looked earnestly into his face, but even she could see that his eyes were wandering, and that there was a slight look of apprehension in the prominent eyes now fixed on a group of farmers who stood a few yards off staring at him and at Mrs. Otway.

      “Yes, gracious lady,” he said mechanically, “I am attending.”

      “Do not think that English people bear any ill-feeling to you and your great country! We feel that Germany, by breaking her word to Belgium, has put herself in the wrong. It is England’s duty to fight, not her pleasure, Mr. Hegner. And we hope with all our hearts that the war will soon be over.”

      He murmured a word of respectful assent. And then, choosing a rather devious route, skirting the fine old Council House, which is the most distinctive feature of Witanbury Market Place, he hurried back to his big stores.

      Mrs. Otway opened the wrought-iron gate of the Trellis House with a feeling of restful satisfaction; but there, in her own pretty, peaceful home, a not very pleasant surprise awaited her. Good old Anna, hurrying out into the black and white hall to meet her gracious lady, did not receive Mr. Hegner’s kind invitation as her mistress had supposed she would do. A look of indecision and annoyance crossed her pink face.

      “Ach, but to go to Mr. Fröhling promised have I,” she muttered.

      And then Mrs. Otway exclaimed, “But the Fröhlings are Germans! They will certainly be there themselves. Mr. Fröhling cannot have known of this meeting when he and his wife asked you to supper. I think, Anna, that it is your duty to attend this gathering. The Dean not only approves of it, but, from what I could make out, he actually suggested that it should take place. Of course I know it makes no real difference to you; but still, Anna,” she spoke reprovingly, “you should not forget at such a time as this that you are German-born.”

      The old woman looked up quickly at her mistress. Forget she was German-born! Mrs. Otway was a most good lady, a most kind employer, but she was sometimes foolish, very very foolish, in what she said! She, Anna Bauer, had often noticed it. Still, averse as she was from the thought, the old German woman was ruefully aware that she would have to accept Mr. Hegner’s invitation. When it came to a tussle of will between the two, herself and her mistress, Mrs. Otway generally won, partly because she was, after all, Anna’s employer, and also because she always knew exactly what it was she wanted Anna to do. Anna was emotional, easily touched, highly excitable; she also generally knew what she wanted, but she did not find it easy to force her will on others, least of all on her beloved if not exactly admired mistress.

      Grumbling under her breath, she retreated into her kitchen; while Mrs. Otway, feeling tired and rather dispirited, went upstairs.

      The back-door bell rang, and Anna went and opened it. A boy stood there, bearing on a tray not only the various little things Mrs. Otway had ordered at the Witanbury Stores half an hour before, but also an envelope addressed to “Frau Bauer.” Anna brought the things into the kitchen, then she opened with interest the envelope addressed to herself. It contained a card, elegantly headed:

      “THE WITANBURY STORES.

       Proprietor: Manfred Hegner.”

      Across it were written in German the words: “You are bidden to a meeting at the above address to-night at nine o’clock. There will be cakes and coffee served before the meeting begins. Entrance by Market Row.”

      Anna read the words again and again. This was treating her at last as she ought always to have been treated! Anna did not like her erst fellow-country-man, and she considered that she had good reason for her dislike. Resentment against ingratitude is not confined to any one nationality.

      When Manfred Hegner had first come to Witanbury, Anna had been delighted to make his acquaintance, and she had spent many happy half-hours chatting with him in the little Delicatessen shop he had established in Bridge Street, close to the Market Place.

      Starting with only the good-will of a bankrupt confectioner, СКАЧАТЬ