Evening star., 1925-05-29

we're so many tones OF gray ir
the world. The low sky and
the slanting rain, the tall, de
| jected houses, the shining pavements
| the shop windows and the solitary
policeman were all different and yet
one. .colored, so that they merged into
one another and made a kind of mel
ancholy harmony.
Even the serpent was gray.
Or, rather, it was dragon, because
| it had legs-any number of them
and Fraulein Gertrude auf und zu
| und Won Arnstein- n-Prutwitz-this was
her full name as found in Gotha s
Almanach, but fortunately most peo
pie called her Trudchen-who had
been brought up on the best fairy
stories, knew that all dragons had
| legs of some sort. But undoubtedly
from q distance 1t looked more like a
serpent, long and sinuous and with
out any of that bluff and comic vio
lence which makes dragons almost
lovable.
At any rate, it was a punctual
creature. Every morning at 9 o'clock
when Trudchen turned into the kai
SerStraSSe-a street name that ought
to have been painted out long since
but every one was too tired and wor.
ried to bother about a detail like that
there it was, ard at five minutes
past it swallowed Fraulein auf und
zu-and -all-the rest st-of.it-whole.
She was. as it were. almost its first
morsel. But today things had gone
wrong. They had been going wrong
for long time-ever since she could
remember. 1t was like a tremendous
toboggan.rur You started off slowly,
everybody shouting and excited
Then you began to go fast-too fast
and then you lost control, and then
suddenly everything seemed to go 10
pieces and f1y off in a hundred diff
ferent dire ctions, and you knew 1t
was the end.
This wasn't Trudchen's description.
1t was her dream. The night before
1t had kept on coming back. Her
blanket, which was a temperamental
thing full of moods and holes, was
thinner than usual. and the cold had
Gnawed hollow place in her middle
just like that left by a sudden swoop
down in an elevator. So that prob
ably the dream was natural enough.
But 1t was a very tiring dream, and
when the gray winters morning had
crept through the gray curtains
Trudchen hadn't wanted to get up.
and when she did get up she had
found large hole in one of her long,
black wooden stockings and had begun
to cry. Not louGly-hardly to notice,
as you might say. The Arnstein- Prut-
Wits were very old family com.
posed exclusively of heroes, and Trud-
chen's father had worn an Iron Cross
when they brought him home for the
last time, and Trudchen had learned
quite early in life not to cry. But this
time her mother had found her sitting
on the edge of the tumbled bed, the
tears trickling noiselessly down a
small, white face, and the wooden
stocking half off, half on, with the
hole showing horribly
Her mother had sat down beside
her and held her tight. She had a
letter in one hand-crunched up as
though with a bitter indigna tion-and
she. too, was trembling from head to
foot
They don't want us. Trudi. No
body wants us. It's all my fault,
darling. I've no tact, you see. God
knows what will become of u.s.
And then she had caught sight of
the hole and had quietly tainted
TO any one else. perhaps. it might
have seemed rather misunderstanding
because of a hole in a wooden stock
ing. But to Trudchen it was the only
reasonable thing to do. She made no
fuss about it. She just crouched down
by her mothers side, stroking the
pretty. faded face with its frozen look
of despair, and saying "Lieb Mutter-
chen" over and over again as though
1t had been the refrain of a sad little
lullaby. And, indeed, she did not want
her mother to wake up, for when she
did wake up she would have to think
about the hole, and the hole was quite
hOpeleSS-beyOnd repair. 1t was much
nicer to go on sleeping.
But it SO happened that Frau Hide
brandt, who ran the little haberdash-
cry shop behind which they had their
one room. came in and said, "Ach, dl
lieber Gott"' and picked up Frau Won
Arnstein in her strong arms and laid
her on the bed and dashed water in
her face.
You make cup os strong coffee,
fraulein," she commit nded in her
large unteroffizier's voice. quick"
But Trudchen couldn't. She could
only stare hard into the empty cup
board. There wasn't any coffee.
There wasn't anything (Which was
odd, when you realized that the Arm
stein-Prutwitzes were such importa mt
people and that Frau Won Arnstein-
Prutwitz, as an officers widow, had a
pension of so many millions that
Trudchen, who was quite good at
arithmetic, couldn't count them). And
then suddenly she felt frightened. as
she often did. She felt she couldn' t
bear to see her mothers white face
or tell Frau Eildebrandt about the
coffee: She took her mothers purse
@