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  Maria turned and found herself face-to-face with Mrs. Ueland. Her first thought was that Mrs. Ueland wouldn’t know her mother even if she said her name. Then she remembered that Mama had indeed met Mrs. Ueland at the Uelands’ house last spring. But by the time she got her wits about her, Aunt Josephine, who was working at her elbow, spoke up.

  “This is my niece, Clara. You met my sister-in-law, Christine Schmidt, before the parade in May. This is Christine’s daughter, Maria.”

  Mrs. Ueland had deep-set eyes and a long, straight nose. She smiled and said, “Schmidt, is it? I could have sworn you were Norwegian, as hard as you’re working.” She held out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Maria Schmidt.”

  Nervously, Maria put the dripping ice pick in her other hand, wiped her wet hand on her apron, and returned Mrs. Ueland’s handshake. “Pleased to meet you as well,” she said as politely as she knew how.

  “I’ve been watching you, Maria. Every time I come by the tent, you’ve been here doing one task or another. Tell me, does the suffrage movement mean that much to you, or are you just looking for something to do?”

  “Oh no, ma’am. I believe with all my heart that we should have the right to vote. I mean women should.”

  Mrs. Ueland laughed. “You were right the first time, Maria. This is for you as well. After all, you’ll be grown up and ready to vote before you know it.” Someone handed Mrs. Ueland a cup of lemonade, and she thanked the person before taking a long sip.

  “Maria,” she continued, “every August I conduct a suffrage fund-raising garden party at our home in the country. There are a number of preparations that must be made ahead of time.”

  Maria couldn’t imagine why Mrs. Ueland was telling her this. Then to Maria’s everlasting shock, the suffrage leader finished by saying, “I need a hard worker to lend me a hand. Would you consider being one of my helpers?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Beware of the Huns

  Maria was sure she’d heard wrong. Why should Mrs. Ueland choose her, of all people?

  “Of course, if you’d rather not…,” Mrs. Ueland added.

  “Oh no, I’d like to. Very much.” Maria glanced at Aunt Josephine, who was smiling. “I’d have to ask Mama,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Of course,” Mrs. Ueland said.

  “Your mama’s sure to say yes,” Aunt Josephine put in, still smiling.

  “We’d need you to come at least three days ahead of time. We have plenty of rooms in our house, now that my older girls are grown.”

  “Robert would be pleased to drive her out in our automobile,” Aunt Josephine offered.

  “Splendid. I’ll look forward to having you then.” Mrs. Ueland handed her empty cup back to Maria, pulled on her gloves, and turned to go. “Oh, and it won’t be all work. There are all sorts of delightful things to do in the country.”

  After she’d gone, Aunt Josephine said, “Now, Miss Maria, what do you think of that? Looks like your suffrage work for the summer is cut out for you.”

  Maria was still in shock. Whatever would she do around a whole houseful of rich folk?

  Maria was much more comfortable dealing with the newsboys. Tony and Liver Lid treated Maria with the same respect they gave Thomas and Curt. She’d proven herself through the summer. Tony told her one day, “I was flat-out sure you’d cave in soon’s you got over the new feeling. You’re a mighty good sport.”

  The compliment poured over her like warm honey. Now that they trusted her, she brought apples and raisins and biscuits and whatever else she could grab each morning to share with them. Usually, Tony and Liver Lid turned around and gave it to the littler guys. She admired them for that. They all seemed to watch out for one another.

  That is, unless it was the gang from the Journal. Then it was war. There was constant bickering over who had rights to what street corners. Liver Lid said the best spots were right at Washington Square where the trolleys stopped to let off the wealthy businessmen who worked in those tall buildings downtown.

  The last week in July, the boys were again excited. Great headlines! On the previous day, July 28, Austria had declared war on Serbia. They were shelling the city of Belgrade.

  “We’ll sell every paper we got,” Tony said with a grin.

  After supper that night, Papa looked up from reading the German newspapers. Germany was tightly allied with Austria-Hungary, he said. “Now that the Fatherland has built up a stronger navy,” Papa went on, “they’ll not be afraid to fight.”

  “Do you mean,” Thomas asked, “that Germany may get into this tussle between two small countries like Serbia and Austria just because some old stuffy archduke was assassinated?”

  Papa said, “We’ll see. But there’s much more here than what you call a ‘tussle between two small countries.’”

  Papa was absolutely right. Headlines the very next Saturday declared that because Russia was building up arms to lend aid to Serbia, Germany had declared war on Russia.

  “Think of that,” Thomas said as they sat in the alley folding their papers. “Those two big strong countries at war with one another.”

  “Papa says the Germans can whip the Russkies any day,” Curt said. “And the Limeys and Frenchies thrown in for good measure.”

  “That doesn’t mean Papa is in favor of war.” Maria quickly came to Papa’s defense. “He’s just repeating what Uncle Werner and Uncle Heinz are always saying. All they ever talk about is how powerful the kaiser’s well-trained Reichswehr is. You’d think they were ready to sail over there and join up.”

  Thomas smiled. “They do get carried away at times. But if we’d been born there, we might feel the same way.”

  “I’d never be in favor of war,” Curt said solemnly. “No matter where I was born.”

  Sunday afternoon after church, Papa wanted to go to the biergarten to learn what was going on. Most of their German friends had scores of relatives back in Germany and received letters regularly.

  That day, the festive gathering was highlighted with more national songs than Maria ever remembered hearing before. The Germans, who loved to sing, sang chorus after chorus as the band played the rousing accompaniment. Many of them proclaimed that the war would be over in three weeks. Deutschland Über Alles—“Germany over all,” the national anthem promised.

  Flyers were handed out giving times and places for meetings of the German-American National Alliance, which met to discuss foreign affairs. Mama didn’t favor such meetings, but Maria noticed that Papa folded the flyer and slipped it inside his coat pocket.

  The next week things happened so fast hardly any American could keep up. Suddenly, everyone was fighting everyone else in Europe. Thomas said it was like a row of dominoes toppling down one after the other.

  Now even Thomas agreed to purchase a copy of the newspaper to bring home and read each day. By the end of the first week in August, the situation had reached gigantic proportions.

  France, who was allied with Russia, began to take military action. So on August 3, Germany declared war against the French people. Germany was poised to strike through Belgium in order to attack France.

  Britain declared that the tiny country of Belgium was neutral and should remain so. The British government demanded that Germany withdraw from Belgium. When the Germans refused, Britain declared war on Germany. Britain’s ally, Japan, sided with Britain.

  Papa shook his head as he read the news aloud to the family late one evening. “It’s as though the entire world is suddenly at war.”

  “The whole world?” Curt asked in a serious tone. He shook a dark shock of hair back out of his eyes. “Has the whole world ever been at war before?”

  “Never,” Papa answered. “Never like this.”

  Papa attended two of the Alliance meetings, but he returned home solemn and stone-faced. When Mama asked him how the meetings went, he said little. This wasn’t like their papa. He usually came home from any German meeting in high spirits and brimming over with news.

  “Wh
y has Papa been so quiet?” Curt asked one morning a week after the first news hit. They were walking home from their route.

  “He doesn’t agree with what the Fatherland is doing,” Thomas replied. “Especially since they attacked the defenseless country of Belgium.”

  “Are they really killing women and little children?” Curt asked.

  Thomas nodded. “That’s what the reports say.”

  “But why?” Curt was in total disbelief, and Maria couldn’t blame him. It all seemed so strange. Curt looked to Thomas to have all the answers, but this time Thomas could only shrug.

  “I don’t understand it, Curt,” he answered in a quiet voice. “I don’t understand it at all.”

  Libby got her wish. In mid-August on her ninth birthday, the family again attended the flickers together. Tess of the Storm Country was the main attraction.

  That night, a newsreel showed before the moving picture. Frightening scenes of rows upon rows of goose-stepping German soldiers flashed across the screen. The words on the screen criticized the actions of Kaiser Wilhelm II, Germany’s leader. Maria was certain that had it not been Libby’s birthday celebration, Papa would have stood and led his family from the theater.

  The next week, Maria packed a small satchel with a few things to take to the Uelands’ home. Uncle Robert was to pick her up the next morning and take her out. Mama had purchased an end piece of a nice cotton print from a table in the basement of Woolworth’s, and together they’d sewn Maria a new dress. Maria didn’t think a new dress was necessary for the occasion, but Mama seemed to think it was. The dress was simple but certainly not as worn and faded as Maria’s other everyday dress.

  That night Papa gathered them all in the parlor to make an announcement. Maria had never seen Papa’s face look so grave. He put on his reading glasses and took the Bible into his lap.

  “I have something to say to you as my family,” he said. “I’ve prayed and mulled this matter over for several days, but now I feel that no longer do I have a choice. From this day on,” he continued, “I will never attend another German Alliance meeting. Nor will I attend a German festival or gathering so long as my fellow Germans condone the barbaric action occurring in the country of Belgium.”

  Maria sat in stunned disbelief. She looked over at Thomas, but Thomas was staring at Papa. None of them could understand it. Papa not spend time with his own family? This must be much more serious than they’d first thought.

  Mama said softly, “Whatever you think best, Franz. We will support you in it.”

  Papa read scripture then, and they prayed together. Papa prayed especially that the fighting would quickly come to an end.

  The next morning, Curt was doing more reading than folding of the newspapers, when suddenly his eyes grew wide. “Thomas. Maria. Look at this.”

  “Curt,” Thomas said sternly, “it’s bad enough you read the front page. Don’t be opening up the papers before we get them delivered.”

  As he spoke, Thomas looked over at the page. Maria peered over his shoulder. A political cartoon pictured an evil-faced German soldier in uniform with hate-filled, wild eyes and hideous fangs for teeth. On his bayonet were the doll-like bodies of children dripping in blood. Beneath the picture was the statement Beware of the Huns.

  Curt looked up at Thomas. “Am I a Hun?”

  “Well, of course you’re not,” Maria snapped, yanking the paper from his hands and folding it as quickly as she could. “What a silly thing to ask. You’re an American just like I am. Just like Thomas is. Like Mama and Papa are. We’re all Americans, Curt. Now let’s hurry. Uncle Robert will be coming for me in a couple hours.”

  But for all her bluster, Maria couldn’t get the ghastly picture out of her mind.

  CHAPTER 11

  In the Country

  The sixteen-room, three-story Ueland house looked like an oversized farmhouse. It sat behind a row of trees just off the deeply rutted Calhoun Road. While it was large, the house was simply designed. It had a large triple-window dormer jutting from the rooftop, with rounded graceful bay windows beneath that. Maria could see that the wide porch wrapped around two sides. A barn stood a ways from the house, painted a flat barn red. Down a grassy hill from the house lay Calhoun Lake, shimmering in the midday sun.

  Maria’s insides wouldn’t quit rumbling as she wondered what the next three days held for her. Uncle Robert had attempted to make polite conversation along the way, but Maria could hardly talk. The jarring ride on the rutted road hadn’t helped any. Now that they’d finally arrived, her mouth was dry as a cotton ball.

  Mama had insisted Maria wear her church dress and her good hat for the drive and pack her everyday things in the satchel. Maria didn’t see any need for getting gussied up when she was only coming to work, but there was no arguing with Mama.

  When the Model T rumbled to a stop, Uncle Robert grabbed her satchel and opened the door to help her out. In a nearby field, workers were assembling makeshift booths. That would obviously be the location of the fund-raising event.

  As they stepped up on the porch, the sound of whooping and shouting came from the lake. Maria turned to see two boys playing at the edge of the water—-with their shirts unbuttoned! She recognized Torvald and his older brother Rolf. Why, she’d almost forgotten about Torvald. Of course he would be here—how silly of her to have forgotten. Quickly she turned back again, pretending she hadn’t seen the flapping shirttails. She could hardly believe such audacity.

  As Uncle Robert rapped the brass knocker, he leaned over to her and smiled. “I believe they have on their woolen swim togs beneath the shirts.”

  Maria felt her face grow bright crimson. The door opened and a young lady in a maid’s uniform appeared. “Yes?” she said. “Oh, Dr. Anderson. Did someone call for you? Is the missus ill?”

  “This isn’t my black bag,” he said in his joking tone as he removed his hat. “This belongs to my niece here. Maria’s come to help with the fund-raiser.”

  “Ah, of course. We’re pleased to have extra hands about. Couldn’t do it all myself, even if I’d a mind to, which I don’t. Not in this heat at any rate.” The maid stepped back.

  “Come in, come in,” she said. “Whatever am I thinking? I’ve not even thought to give me own name, I haven’t.” She gave a little curtsey as Uncle Robert and Maria stepped into the entryway. “I’m Carolyn, but the folks all call me Carrie and you can, too.” Her brogue seemed to lilt along like a gurgling little brook. “Will you be a-staying, Dr. Anderson?”

  Uncle Robert shook his head. “I’m only the driver for this mission. I must get back to my office right away.” Replacing his hat, he kissed Maria gently on her cheek, bade her good day, and left.

  “Mm,” Carrie said thoughtfully. “Shall I take you to your room first or take you to see the missus?”

  Maria didn’t know the answer. But it didn’t matter because Carrie was just thinking out loud. “Best take you to the missus. I haven’t the faintest notion where she wants you to sleep, I don’t.”

  Maria picked up her satchel and followed Carrie down the hallway into a great center hall with low oak paneling and a red-tile fireplace. A perfect place for a Christmas dinner celebration.

  “This here’s the library,” Carrie said as she moved on down a narrower hall and stood before a closed door. She tapped at the door. “Pardon, Mrs. Ueland. A girl named Maria here to assist with the goings-on.”

  “Come in,” came the answer.

  Like the rest of the house, the library was large and spacious but not elaborate or ornate. Everything had a scrubbed, lived-in look. Mrs. Ueland was without hat and gloves, and her dress was a serviceable polished cotton print in pink tones—not at all what Maria thought this woman would wear at home. Now Maria wished more than ever that she wasn’t decked out fit to kill.

  Mrs. Ueland rose to greet Maria and welcomed her to their home. “As I told you at the fair, we have many extra bedrooms now that our five older children are gone,” she said. “You’re welcome t
o any of them. But I should think you’d like Sandra’s old room since it faces south. You can see the lake from there and catch the breeze as well.”

  “That’s fine, thank you.” Maria had thought she might have to stay with the hired help—wherever it was that the hired help stayed. Later, she learned that the maid and cook lived on the third floor and used a back stairway. The hired man, Herb, had a room in the barn.

  “Please make yourself at home in your room,” Mrs. Ueland was saying. “As soon as you’re comfortable, come back here and we’ll talk about the work that’s to be done.”

  Carrie led the way to the upstairs bedroom and then dismissed herself. “You’ll be comfy in this here room, missy,” she said. “Now I mustn’t be standing around like I was addlepated. The missus is kind but doesn’t hold with lollygagging about, she doesn’t. I’ll see you directly.”

  “Thank you, Carrie.” Maria started to extend her hand, but Carrie gave a little curtsey and was gone.

  For a moment, Maria stood in the middle of the room and just stared. It was spacious and airy. So much larger than her small room beneath the eaves—and cooler as well. Probably warmer in winter, too. Wallpaper in an ivy and lattice pattern gave the room a cool look, as did the white furniture.

  Setting her satchel on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, she stepped to the window. The browning pasture sloped away from the house toward the sparkling lake, which was surrounded by a thick stand of oaks, maples, and blackjack. The Ueland brothers were in the lake, swimming around like fish.

  Turning from the window, she stepped to a dainty vanity table with a cushioned stool in front of it. Maria picked up a small hand-carved ivory jewel box that stood on miniature legs. The artwork was exquisite. Returning it to its place, she ran her fingers over the pale-blue satin handkerchief case, the sides of which were covered with plaited satin. On a silver tray were several cut-glass atomizers. One smelled like lily-of-the-valley. What girl, she wondered, would move away from home and leave behind all these lovely things?