"You may look at me, Larry," she cried. "I am German but I do not like the German ways. I like the Canadian ways. The Germans treat their women like their cows. They feed them well, they keep them warm because--because--they have calves--I mean the cows--and the women have kids. I hate the German ways. Look at my mother. What is she in that house? Day and night she has worked, day and night, saving money--and what for? For Ernest. Running to wait on him and on Father and they never know it. It's women's work with us to wait on men, and that is the way in the Settlement up there. Look at your mother and you. Mein Gott! I could kill them, those men!""Why, Dorothea, you amaze me. What's up with you? I never heard you talk like this. I never knew that you felt like this.""No, how could you know? Who would tell you? Not Ernest," she replied bitterly.
"But, Dorothea, you are happy, are you not?"
"Happy, I was until I knew better, till two years ago when I saw your mother and you with her. Then Ernest came back thinking himself a German officer--he is an officer, you know--and the way he treated our mother and me!""Treated your mother! Surely he is not unkind to your mother?"Larry had a vision of a meek, round-faced, kindly, contented woman, who was obviously proud of her only son.
"Kind, kind," cried Dorothea, "he is kind as German sons are kind.
But you cannot understand. Why did I speak to you of this? Yes, Iwill tell you why," she added, apparently taking a sudden resolve.
"Let's go slowly. Ernest is gone anyway. I will tell you why.
Before Ernest went away he was more like a Canadian boy. He was good to his mother. He is good enough still but--oh, it is so hard to show you. I have seen you and your mother. You would not let your mother brush your boots for you, you would not sit smoking and let her carry in wood in the winter time, you would not stand leaning over the fence and watch your mother milk the cow. Mein Gott! Ernest, since he came back--the women are only good for waiting on him, for working in the house or on the farm. His wife, she will not work in the fields; Ernest is too rich for that. But she will not be like"--here the girl paused abruptly, a vivid colour dyeing her fair skin--"like your wife. I would die sooner than marry a German man.""But Ernest is not like that, Dorothea. He is not like that with my sisters. Why, he is rather the other way, awfully polite and all that sort of thing, you know.""Yes, that's the way with young German gentlemen to young ladies, that is, other people's ladies. But to their own, no. And I must tell you. Oh, I am afraid to tell you," she added breathlessly.
"But I will tell you, you have been so kind, so good to me. You are my friend, and you will not tell. Promise me you will never tell." The girl's usually red face was pale, her voice was hoarse and trembling.
"What is the matter, Dorothea? Of course I won't tell.""Ernest wants to marry your sister, Kathleen. He is just mad to get her, and he always gets his way too. I would not like to see your sister his wife. He would break her heart and," she added in a lower voice, "yours too. But remember you are not to tell. You are not to let him know I told you." A real terror shone in her eyes. "Do you hear me?" she cried. "He would beat me with his whip. He would, he would.""Beat you, beat you?" Larry pulled up his horse short. "Beat you in this country--oh, Dorothea!""They do. Our men do beat their women, and Ernest would too. The women do not think the same way about it as your women. You will not tell?" she urged.
"What do you think I am, Dorothea? And as for beating you, let me catch him. By George, I'd, I'd--""What?" said Dorothea, turning her eyes full upon him, her pale face flushing.
Larry laughed. "Well, he's a big chap, but I'd try to knock his block off. But it's nonsense. Ernest is not that kind. He's an awfully good sort.""He is, he is a good sort, but he is also a German officer and, ah, you cannot understand, but do not let him have your sister. I have told you. Come, let us go quickly."They rode on in silence, but did not overtake the others until they reached the timber lot where they found the party waiting. With what Dorothea had just told him in his mind, Larry could not help a keen searching of Kathleen's face. She was quietly chatting with the young German, with face serene and quite untouched with anything but the slightest animation. "She is not worrying over anything," said Larry to himself. Then he turned and looked upon the face of the young man at her side. A shock of surprise, of consternation, thrilled him. The young man's face was alight with an intensity of eagerness, of desire, that startled Larry and filled him with a new feeling of anxiety, indeed of dismay.
