To my surprise, the Steins went directly to their own room; and grandma did not speak, but closed her eyes as she passed me.  That was her way, and I knew that it would be useless to ask what had offended her.  So I took my milk pails, and, wondering, went to the cow corrals.  I could not imagine what had happened, yet felt hurt and uncomfortable.

Returning with the milk, I saw Johnnie playing by the tree, too near the horse’s feet, and warned him.  As he moved, grandma stepped forward and stood in front of me, her face white with rage.  I set my buckets down and standing between them listened as she said in German: 

“Oh, false one, thou didst not think this morning that I would so soon find thee out.  Thou wast not smart enough to see that my friend, Mrs. Stein, was studying thee, so that she could let me know what kind of children I had around me.  And thou, like a snake in the grass, hast been sticking out thy tongue behind my back.  Thou pretendest that thou art not staying here to get my money and property, yet thou couldst tell her all I had.  Thou wouldst not read all in the letters from thy fine sisters?  Thou wouldst rather stay here until I die and then be rich and spend it with them!”

She stopped as if to catch her breath, and I could only answer, “Grandma, I have not done what thou sayest.”

She continued:  “I have invited people to come here this night, and thou shalt stand before them and listen while I tell what I have done for thee, and how thou hast thanked me.  Now, go, finish thy work, eat thy supper, and come when I call thee.”

I heard her call, but don’t know how I got into the room, nor before how many I stood.  I know that my head throbbed and my feet almost refused to support my body, as I listened to grandma, who in forceful language declared that she had taken me, a starveling, and reared me until I was almost as tall as she herself; that she had loved and trusted me, and taught me everything I knew, and that I had that day blackened the home that had sheltered me, wounded the hand that had fed me, and proved myself unworthy the love that had been showered upon me.  Mrs. Stein helped her through an account of our morning chat, misconstruing all that had passed between us.

I remained silent until the latter had announced that almost the first thing that she had noticed was that we children were of a selfish, jealous disposition, and that Georgia was very cross when her little Johnnie came home wearing a hat that grandpa had bought him.  Then I turned upon her saying, “Mrs. Stein, you forget that Georgia has not seen that hat.  You know that grandma bought it after Georgia went away.”

She sprang toward me, then turned to grandma, and asked if she was going to let an underling insult a guest in her house.