Not one knock on her door. And this is the fourth morning for the advertisement to run in the newspaper.
Her neighbors treat her nicely, as always. Well, several might be a little more reserved than before. Yet Hedda finds herself lonely, particularly in the evenings. The rooms in her once-cozy cottage loom large and shadowy when she sits down to read.
There must be numerous kind women who would find the second bedroom comfortable. Women who would welcome free lodging. The street is tidy and well regarded.
Of course, anyone reading the newspaper is familiar with her last name. But she was found innocent. It was self-defense. No one should fear her.
“The anti-German sentiment is so strong,” grumbles the Colonel, “the Loyalty Laws have taken away the older generation’s right to talk on the street. In Fredericksburg, Boerne, New Braunfels, most of the Texas Hill Country, if men are prohibited from expressing themselves in German, they have no vocabulary at their command. As you know, Andy, many of the inhabitants never have learned a word of English.”
“The last time I walked down Main Street in Boerne, Colonel, German was all I heard.”
“And the Anti-Saloon League, constantly pumping out propaganda that the breweries are all part of an enormous German conspiracy to take over the United States. I felt I had no choice but to make this commitment on the floor of the Texas House of Representatives yesterday: ‘The breweries of Texas stand ready to close as a patriotic measure, when, in the opinion of the President of the nation, such a course is desired for winning the war.’ It generated much applause, but I certainly am glad Otto was not alive to hear it.”
“I thought the worst was behind me. But this. This is the worst. The interminable waiting. It can’t be a positive sign.”
“Your case is complex,” says Mr. Campbell. “There were hours and hours of testimony, and not all witnesses were in agreement. The jury didn’t even begin their deliberations until after six thirty last evening, and they are permitted to eat and sleep. It’s but eleven o’clock now. Try to calm yourself. It could be hours before they return.”
“We’ll make arrangements,” says Mr. Watson, “to have lunch brought in for us.”