]
"Gretchen, Highness."
"Well, Gretchen, sit down."
"In your presence, Highness?" aghast.
"Don't bother about my presence on a morning like this. Sit down."
This was a command and Gretchen obeyed with alacrity. It would not be
difficult, thought Gretchen, to love a princess like this, who was not
only lovely but sensible. The two sat mutely. They were strangely alike.
Their eyes nearly matched, their hair, even the shape of their faces.
They were similarly molded, too; only, one was slender and graceful,
after the manner of fashion, while the other was slender and graceful
directly from the hands of nature. The health of outdoors was visible in
their fine skins and clear eyes. The marked difference lay, of course,
in their hands. The princess had never toiled with her fingers except on
the piano. Gretchen had plucked geese and dug vegetables with hers.
They were rough, but toil had not robbed them of their natural grace.
"How was she?" her highness asked.
"About the same, Highness."
"Have you wondered why she should write to me?"
"Highness, it was natural that I should," was Gretchen's frank
admission.
"She took me in when nobody knew who I was, clothed and fed me, and
taught me music so that some day I should not be helpless when the
battle of life began.
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