"How did you know?" said Jack a little embarrassed.
"Because I know what your allowance is, and I know you had only a tiny bit left after you bought the doll."
"Exactly what I thought. Any one of us older ones would have been glad to help you out, but like the reckless little body that you are, you rushed off and didn't give us a chance. If you had waited a few minutes you might have known we'd come out to hunt you up."
"I wanted Bertha to have the ticket and I thought I'd better go, so she wouldn't try to give it back to me."
"Oh, of course, I know exactly why you did it, but next time give the rest of us a chance too. We could all have chipped in and have bought her a ticket, that is supposing there were any to be had. They were very cheap, anyhow, so you could both have had your fun."
Jack gave a little sigh. She realized that she had rather overstepped the mark in her effort to be generous, but now she did not regret it, for Jean had only seen a Princess Herzlieb, and Nan had said she was one herself; that was much better, and Nan had missed her, whether any one else did or not. It was worth while to have done something that no one else had thought of doing, and for which Nan had praised her.
True to their word Miss Helen and Nan did go to hunt up Bertha Metzger, and found that she really did live with the switch-tender in a little back street. The place was poor but respectable enough. Frau Pfeffer, the aunt, worked very hard to support her five small children and Bertha, too, and it was hard to earn enough for food and clothing for all. Bertha's father had suddenly disappeared, and had not been heard of for a long time. He had been nearly crazed by the loss of his wife, and about the same time had lost his place in a factory. Frau Pfeffer, herself, had come from the country after the death of her husband and had tried to find her brother, whom she believed to be in Munich, but had not been able to learn anything about him. He had gone away to look for work, his neighbors said, and had promised to return for his little girl whom he had sent to her aunt.
There was nothing of the whining beggar about Frau Pfeffer. She told her tale simply as a matter of course, and did not hint at her needs. She worked hard, but not so hard as many others, for she could sit down much of the time, and though it was often cold, still that was nothing when one was used to it, and she considered herself very fortunate to have the work to do. Bertha could help a great deal. She was to be relied upon, and did not let the children get into any harm. The father's name was Hans Metzger, and she was sure if he were alive he would come back.