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diff --git a/old/60154-0.txt b/old/60154-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6e4bb92..0000000 --- a/old/60154-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5806 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches, by -Margaret Vandercook - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches - -Author: Margaret Vandercook - -Release Date: August 23, 2019 [EBook #60154] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED CROSS GIRLS IN BRITISH TRENCHES *** - - - - -Produced by Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images -courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University -(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/)) - - - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - -Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end. - - * * * * * - -THE RED CROSS GIRLS IN THE BRITISH TRENCHES - -[Illustration: IT DID NOT OCCUR TO HER THAT SHE WAS IN EQUAL -PERIL--(_See page 250_)] - - * * * * * - - - - -The Red Cross Girls in the British Trenches - - - By - MARGARET VANDERCOOK - - Author of “The Ranch Girls Series,” “Stories - about Camp Fire Girls Series,” etc. - - Illustrated - - The John C. Winston Company - Philadelphia - - * * * * * - - Copyright, 1916, by - THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. A SOCIAL FAILURE 7 - - II. DIFFERENT KINDS OF COURAGE 26 - - III. FAREWELL 41 - - IV. MAKING ACQUAINTANCES 58 - - V. “LADY DORIAN” 71 - - VI. A TRIAL OF FIRE 85 - - VII. THE LANDING 97 - - VIII. A MEETING 109 - - IX. “BUT YET A WOMAN” 124 - - X. BEHIND THE FIRING LINES 138 - - XI. OUT OF A CLEAR SKY 150 - - XII. FIRST AID 161 - - XIII. THE SUMMONS 169 - - XIV. COLONEL DALTON 179 - - XV. NEWSPAPER LETTERS 190 - - XVI. THE AMBULANCE CORPS 202 - - XVII. DICK 214 - - XVIII. A REAPPEARANCE 226 - - XIX. THE TEST 235 - - XX. A GIRL’S DEED 249 - - XXI. AN UNEXPECTED SITUATION 258 - - XXII. RECOGNITION 271 - - * * * * * - -THE RED CROSS GIRLS IN THE BRITISH TRENCHES - - - - -CHAPTER I _A Social Failure_ - - -The dance was over and Mildred Thornton climbed disconsolately up the -long stairs. From her thin shoulders floated a delicate white scarf -and her dress was of white lace and tulle. Yet Mildred had no look of -a conquering Princess, nor yet of Cinderella, who must have carried -her head proudly even after the ball, remembering the devotion of her -Prince. - -But for Mildred there was no Prince to remember, nor devotion from -anyone. She was in that mood of hopeless depression which comes from -having attended a dance at which one has been a hopeless failure. Her -head drooped and though her cheeks were hot, her hands were cold. - -Downstairs in the library she could hear her brother having his -good-night talk with their mother. Of course he did not intend that -she should overhear what was being said, and yet distinctly his words -floated up to her. - -“Well, dearest, I did what I could, I swear it. Do hand me another one -of those sandwiches; playing the devoted brother takes it out of me. -But poor old Mill is no go! The fellows were nice enough, of course; -they danced with her whenever I asked them, but the worst of it was -they would not repeat the offense. You know Mill dances something like -an animated telegraph pole, and though she is a brick and all that, -she hasn’t an ounce of frivolous conversation. Do you know, I actually -heard her talking about the war, and no one in our set ever speaks of -the war now; we are jolly tired of the subject.” - -Whatever her mother’s reply, it was given in so low a tone as to be -inaudible. But again Dick’s voice was pitched louder. - -“Oh, all right, I’ll keep up the struggle a while longer, as I -promised, but it’s no use. Have you ever thought of what will become of -your adored son’s popularity if he has to continue in New York society -with a ‘Mill’ stone hung about his neck?” - -On the stairs the girl bit her lips, flinging back her head to keep the -tears away. For at once there had followed the sound of her brother’s -pleased laugh over his own wit, then her mother’s murmured protest. - -So plainly could Mildred Thornton see the picture in the library that -it was not necessary for her to be present except in the spirit. -Indeed, it was in order that she might not intrude upon Dick’s -confession that she had insisted upon going at once to her own room as -soon as they arrived at home. Nevertheless, no one need tell her that -her brother had not the faintest intention of being unkind. He never -liked hurting people’s feelings; yet when one is handsome and charming, -sometimes it is difficult to understand how those who are neither must -feel. - -In her own room a moment later, Mildred, touching the electric button, -flooded her apartment with a soft yellow light. Then deliberately -placing herself before a long mirror the girl began a study of her own -appearance. After all, was she so much less good looking than other -girls? Was that the reason why Dick had been compelled to report to -their mother her extraordinary lack of social success? And if this had -been the only occasion, once would not have mattered. But after three -months of the same story, with everything done to help her, beautiful -clothes, her own limousine, her father’s money and reputation, -her mother’s and brother’s efforts--why, no wonder her family was -discouraged. But if only her mother had not been so disappointed and so -chagrined, Mildred felt she would not have cared a great deal. There -were other things in life besides society. - -Yet now, without fear or favor, Mildred Thornton undertook to form an -impartial judgment of herself. - -In the mirror she saw reflected a girl taller than most girls, but even -in these days when slenderness is a mark of fashion, certainly one who -was too thin. However, there was comfort in the fact that her shoulders -were broad and flat and that she carried her head well. - -“For one must find consolation in something,” Mildred murmured aloud. -Then because she did not consider that the consolations were as -numerous as they might have been, she frowned. It was unfortunate, of -course, that her hair, though long and heavy, was also straight and -flaxen and without the yellow-brown lights that were so attractive. -Then assuredly her chin was too square and her mouth too large. - -Closer she peered into the mirror. Her nose was not so bad; it could -not be called piquant, nor yet pure Greek, but it was a straight, -American nose. And at any rate her eyes were fairly attractive; if one -wished to be flattering they might even be called handsome. They were -almost steel color, large and clear, with blue and gray lights in them. -Her eyebrows and lashes were much darker than her hair. If only their -expression had not always been so serious! - -Turning her head first on one side and then on the other, attempting to -dart ardent, challenging glances at herself, suddenly Mildred made a -little grimace. Then throwing back her head she laughed. Instantly the -attraction she had been hoping for appeared in her face although the -girl herself was not aware of it. - -“Mildred Thornton, what an utter goose you are! It is tragic enough to -be a stick and a wall flower. But when you attempt behaving like the -girls who are belles, you simply look mad.” - -Moving aside from the mirror Mildred now let her party gown slip to the -floor. - -She was standing in the center of a beautiful room whose walls were -gray and gold. The rug under her feet was also gray with a deep border -of yellow roses. Her bed was of mahogany and there was a mahogany -writing desk and table and low chairs of the same material. Through an -open door one could glimpse a private sitting room even more charming. -Indeed, as there was no possible luxury missing so there could be no -doubt that Mildred Thornton was a fortunately wealthy girl, which of -course meant that she had nothing to trouble her. - -Nevertheless, at this moment Mildred was thinking, “Oh, if only I were -thirty instead of nineteen, I wonder if I might be allowed to be happy -in my own way.” - -Then without remembering to throw a dressing gown across her shoulders, -tip-toeing across the floor without any apparent reason, the girl -unlocked a secret drawer in her desk. Opening it she drew out a large, -unusual looking envelope. She was staring at this while her eyes were -slowly filling with tears, when there came a sudden knock at her door. - -At the same instant the envelope was thrust back into the drawer, and -not until then did Mildred answer or move toward her door. - -A visit from her mother tonight was really one of the last things in -the world she desired. It was wicked to have so little sympathy with -one’s own mother and the fault was of course hers. But tonight she -was really too tired and depressed to explain why she had made no -more effort to be agreeable. Her mother would insist that she had only -herself to blame for her evening’s failure. It was hard, of course, -that so beautiful a woman could not have had a handsome daughter as -well as a handsome son. - -But instead of her mother, there in the hall stood a tall, thin man, -whose light hair had turned gray. He had a strong, powerful face, -deeply lined, one that both men and women turned to look at the second -time. - -“I heard you come upstairs alone, Mill dear,” Judge Thornton said, -smiling like a shamefaced schoolboy. “Don’t tell your mother or Dick, -will you, for we had better break it to them by degrees? But I sent a -check today for two thousand dollars to the Red Cross Fund to be used -in this war relief business, my dear. I had to do it, it was on my -conscience. I know your mother and brother won’t like it; they have -been scolding for a new motor car and I’ve said I couldn’t afford one. -Really four persons ought to be able to get on with two automobiles, -when a good many thousands are going without bread. We’ll stand -together, won’t we, even if my little girl has to give up one of her -debutante parties?” - -Already Mildred’s arms were about her father’s neck so that he found it -difficult to talk, for that and other reasons. - -“I am so glad, so glad,” she kept whispering. “You know how tiresome -Dick and mother feel I am because I don’t think we ought to keep on -playing and dancing and frivoling, when this horrible war is going -on and people are being wounded and killed every minute. If you only -guessed how I wanted to use the little knowledge and strength I have to -help.” - -But the Judge now shook his head decisively and moved away. - -“Nonsense, child, you are too young; such an idea is not to be thought -of. We ought never to have let you attend those hospital classes, or -at least I should not have allowed it. Goodness knows, your mother -fought the idea bitterly enough! But remember, you promised her that -you would give the same time to society that you have given to your -nursing, and that is three years. You can’t go back on your word, and -besides I won’t have you thinking so much about these horrors; you’ll -be making yourself ill. War isn’t a girl’s business.” Certainly Judge -Thornton was trying to be severe, but just beyond the door he turned -back. - -“I sent the check in your name, Mill dear, so you can feel you are -doing a little something to help,” he added affectionately. “Good -night.” - -Afterwards, although tired (and it was quite two o’clock when she was -finally in bed), Mildred Thornton found it almost impossible to sleep. -At first she kept seeing a vision of herself as she appeared at the -dance earlier in the evening. How stiff and solemn and out of place she -had seemed, and how impossible it had been to make conversation with -the young men her brother had brought forward and introduced to her! -In the first place, they had not seemed like men at all, but like the -fashionably dressed pictures in the magazine advertisements or the -faultless figures adorning the windows in men’s furnishing stores. - -Besides, they had only wished to talk of the latest steps in the new -dances or the last musical comedy. And what a strange expression that -young fellow’s face had worn, when she had asked him if he had ever -thought of going over to help in the war! No wonder Dick had been so -ashamed of her. - -Then, having fallen asleep, Mildred began dreaming. Her father had -been right, she must have been thinking more than she should about the -war. Because in her dream she kept seeing regiment after regiment of -soldiers marching across broad, green fields, with bands playing, flags -flying and their faces shining in the sun. Finally they disappeared -in a cloud of black smoke, and when this took place she had awakened -unexpectedly. - -Sitting up in bed with her long flaxen braids hanging over either -shoulder, Mildred wondered what had aroused her at this strange hour? -Then she remembered that it was the loud, clear ringing of their front -door bell. Moreover, she had since become conscious of other noises in -the house. Her brother had rushed out of his room and was calling to -the man servant who had turned on the lights down in the front hall. - -“I say, Brown, be careful about opening that front door, will you? Wait -half a moment until I get hold of my pistol and I’ll join you. I don’t -like this business of our being aroused at a time like this. It must be -just before daylight and New York is full of burglars and cutthroats.” - -Dick then retired into his room and the next sound Mildred heard was -his voice expostulating with his mother. - -“Oh, go on back to bed, dearest, and for heaven’s sake keep father out -of this. Certainly there is no danger; besides, if there were I am -not such a mollycoddle that I’m going to have Brown bear the brunt. -Somebody’s got to open the door or that bell will never stop ringing.” - -Then Dick’s feet in his bedroom slippers could be heard running down -the uncarpeted stairs. A moment later Mildred got into her wrapper and -stood with her arm about her mother’s waist, shivering and staring down -into the hall. - -If anything should happen to Dick it would be too tragic! Her mother -adored him. - -The butler was now unfastening the storm doors, while directly behind -him Dick waited with his pistol at a convenient level. - -Then both men stepped backward with astonished exclamations, allowing -a queer, small figure to enter the hall without a word of protest. The -next moment Mildred was straining her ears to hear one of the most -bewitching voices she had ever imagined. Later an equally bewitching -figure unfolded itself from a heavy coat. - -“It’s sorry I am to have disturbed you at such an hour,” the girl -began. “But how was I to know that the train from Chicago would arrive -at three o’clock in the morning instead of three in the afternoon? -I was hoping some one would be at the station to meet me, though of -course I didn’t expect it, so I just took a cab and found the way here -myself.” - -Then the newcomer smiled with a kind of embarrassed wistfulness. - -For the first time beholding Dick’s pistol, which was now hanging in a -dangerously limp fashion in his hand, she started. - -“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I suppose you think that in Nebraska we go about -with pistols in our hands instead of pocket handkerchiefs; but, really, -we don’t welcome guests with them.” - -Having dropped her coat on the floor, the girl under the light looked -so tiny that she seemed like a child. She had short, curly dark hair -which her tight-fitting traveling cap had pressed close against her -face. Her eyes were big and blue, and perhaps because she was pale from -fatigue her lips were extremely red. - -Indeed, Dick Thornton decided, and never afterwards changed his -opinion, that she was one of the best looking girls he had ever seen in -his life. But who could she be, where had she come from, and what was -she doing in their house at such an extraordinary hour? - -Clearing his throat, Dick made a tremendous effort to appear -impressive. Yet he was frightfully conscious of his own absurdity. He -knew that his hair must be standing on end, that his dressing gown had -been donned in a hurry and that he had on slippers with a space between -his feet and dressing gown devoid of covering. Moreover, what was he to -do with his absurd pistol? - -“I am afraid you have made a mistake,” Dick began lamely. “If you are -a stranger in New York and have just arrived to visit friends, perhaps -we can tell you where to find them. Or, or, if you--” Dick did not feel -that it was exactly his place to invite a strange young woman to spend -the rest of the night at their home; yet as her cab had gone one could -hardly turn her out into the street. Why did not his mother or Mildred -come on down and help him out. Usually he knew the right thing to say -and do, but this situation was too much for him. Besides, the girl -looked as if she might be going to cry. - -But she was a plucky little thing, because instead of crying she tried -to laugh. - -“I have made a mistake, of course,” she faltered. “I was looking for -Judge Richard Thornton’s home on Seventy-fourth Street, the number was -28 I thought. Has the cabman brought me to the wrong place?” - -Slowly Mrs. Thornton was now approaching them with Mildred hovering in -the background. But Dick did not altogether like the expression of his -mother’s face. It showed little welcome for the present intruder. Now -what could he say to make her happier before any one else had a chance -to speak. - -“Why, that _is_ my father’s name and our address all right, and I -expect we are delighted to see you. I wonder if you would mind telling -us your name and where you have come from? You see, we were not exactly -looking for a visitor, but we are just as glad to see you.” - -The girl had turned at once toward Mrs. Thornton and it was astonishing -how much dignity she possessed in spite of her childish appearance. - -“I regret this situation more than I can express. I am sure I owe you -an explanation, although I do not know exactly what it can be,” she -began. “My name is Barbara Meade. Several weeks ago my father wrote to -his old school friend, Judge Richard Thornton, saying that I was to be -in New York for a short time on my way to England. He asked if it would -be convenient to have me stay with you. He received an answer saying -that it _would_ be perfectly convenient and that I might come any -day. Then before I left, father telegraphed.” Barbara’s lips were now -trembling, although she still kept back the tears. “If you will call a -cab for me, please, I shall be grateful to you. I would have gone to a -hotel tonight, only I did not know whether a hotel would receive me at -this hour.” - -“My dear child, you will do no such thing. There has been some mistake, -of course, since I have never heard of your visit. But certainly we -are not going to turn you out in the night,” Mrs. Thornton interrupted -kindly. - -Ordinarily she was supposed to be a cold woman. Now her manner was so -charming that her son and daughter desired to embrace her at the same -moment. But there was no time for further discussion or demonstration, -because at this instant a new figure joined the little group. Actually -Judge Thornton looked more like a criminal than one of the most famous -criminal lawyers in New York state. - -Nevertheless, immediately he put his arm about Barbara Meade’s -shoulders. - -“My dear little girl, you need never forgive me; I shall not forgive -myself nor expect any one else to do so. Certainly I received that -letter from your father. Daniel Meade is one of my dearest friends -besides being one of the finest men in the United States. Moreover, I -wrote him that we should be most happy to have his daughter stay with -us as long as she liked, but the fact of the matter is--” several times -the tall man cleared his throat. “Well, my family will tell you that I -am the most absent-minded man on earth. I simply forgot to mention the -matter to my wife or any one else. So now you have to stay on with us -forever until you learn to forgive me.” - -Then Dick found himself envying his father as he patted their visitor’s -shoulder while continuing to beg her forgiveness. - -But the next moment his mother and sister had led their little guest -away upstairs. Then when she was safely out of sight Dick again became -conscious of his own costume--or lack of it. - - - - -CHAPTER II _Different Kinds of Courage_ - - -Moving along Riverside Drive with sufficient slowness to grasp details -had given the little western visitor an opportunity to enjoy the great -sweep of the Hudson River and the beauty of the New Jersey palisades. - -On the front seat of the motor car Barbara sat with Dick Thornton, -who had offered to take the chauffeur’s place for the afternoon. Back -of them were Mrs. Thornton and Mildred. It was a cold April day and -there were not many other cars along the Drive. Finally Mrs. Thornton, -leaning over, touched her son on the shoulder. - -“I think it might be wiser, Dick, to go back home now. Barbara has seen -the view of the river and the wind has become so disagreeable. Suppose -we turn off into Broadway,” she suggested. - -Acquiescing, a few moments later Dick swung his car up a steep -incline. He was going at a moderate pace, and yet just before reaching -Broadway he sounded his horn, not once, but half a dozen times. The -crossing appeared free from danger. Then when they had arrived at about -the middle of the street, suddenly (and it seemed as if the car must -have leaped out of space) a yellow automobile came racing down Broadway -at incredible speed. - -It chanced that Barbara observed the car first, although immediately -after she heard queer muffled cries coming from Mildred and her mother. -She herself felt no inclination to scream. For one thing, there did -not seem to be time. Nevertheless, impulse drew her eyes toward Dick -Thornton to see how he was affected. - -Of course he must have become aware of their danger when the rest of -them had. He must know that all their lives were in deadly peril. Yet -there was nothing in the expression of his face to suggest it, nor -had his head moved the fraction of an inch. Strange to see him half -smiling, his color vivid, his dark eyes unafraid, almost as if he had -no realization of what must inevitably happen. - -Closing her own eyes, Barbara felt her body stiffen; the first shock -would be over in a second, and afterwards---- - -Nevertheless no horrible crash followed, but instead the girl felt -that she must be flying along through the air instead of being driven -along the earth. For they had made a single gigantic leap forward. Then -Barbara became aware that Mildred was speaking in a voice that shook -with nervousness in spite of her effort at self-control. - -“You have saved all our lives, Dick. How ever did you manage to get out -of that predicament?” Afterwards she endeavored to quiet her mother, -who was becoming hysterical now that they were entirely safe. - -So they were safe! It scarcely seemed credible. Yet when Barbara Meade -looked up the racing car was still speeding on its desperate way down -Broadway, followed by two policemen on motorcycles, while their own -automobile was moving quietly on. The girl had a moment of feeling -limp and ill. Then she discovered that Dick Thornton was talking to her -and that she must answer him. - -He was still smiling and his brown eyes were untroubled, but now that -the danger had passed every bit of the color had left his face. Yet -undoubtedly he was good looking. - -Barbara had to check an inclination to laugh. This was a tiresome -trait of hers, to see the amusing side of things at the time when they -should not appear amusing. Now, for instance, it was ridiculous to find -herself admiring Dick Thornton’s nose at the instant he had saved her -life. - -His face was almost perfectly modeled, his forehead broad and high with -dark hair waving back from it like the pictures of young Greek boys. -His brown eyes were deeply set beneath level brows, his olive skin and -his mouth as attractive as a girl’s. - -Yes, her new acquaintance was handsome, Barbara concluded gravely, and -yet his face lacked strength. Personally she preferred the bronzed and -rugged type of young men to whom she was accustomed in the west. - -But what was it that her companion had been saying? - -“I do trust, Miss Meade, that you are not ill from fright. Mildred, -will you please lend us mother’s smelling salts for a little while, or -had we best stop by a drug store?” - -Shaking her head Barbara smiled. She was wearing the same little -close-fitting brown velvet hat of the night of her arrival. But today -her short curls had fluttered out from under it and her eyes were wide -open and bluer than ever with the wonderful vision of the first great -city she had ever seen. - -“Oh, dear me, no, there is nothing in the world the matter with me,” -Barbara expostulated. “Why if I can’t go through a little bit of -excitement like that, how do you suppose I am going to manage to be a -Red Cross nurse in Europe in war times?” - -“You a war nurse?” Dick Thornton’s voice expressed surprise, amusement, -and disbelief. He turned his head sideways to glance at his companion. -“Forgive me,” he said, “but you look a good deal more like a bisque -doll. I believe they do have dolls dressed as Red Cross nurses, set up -in the windows of the toy shops. Shall I try to get a place in a window -for you?” - -Barbara was blushing furiously, although she intended not to allow -herself to grow angry. Certainly she must not continue so sensitive -about her youthful appearance. There would be many more trials of this -same kind ahead of her. - -“I am sorry you think I look like a doll,” she returned with an effort -at carelessness; “it is rather absurd in a grown-up woman to show so -little character. My hair is short because I had typhoid fever a year -ago. You know, I’m really over eighteen; I got through school pretty -early and as I have always known what I wanted to do, I took some -special courses in nursing at school, so I was able to graduate two -years afterwards.” - -“Oh, I see,” Dick murmured, appearing thoughtful. “Eighteen is older -than any doll I ever heard of unless she happened to be a doll that had -been put away in an old cedar chest years ago. Then she usually had the -paint licked off, the saw-dust coming out and her hair uncurled.” Again -Dick glanced around, grave as the proverbial judge. “You know, it does -not look to me as if any of those alarming things had _yet_ happened to -you, else I might try to turn doctor myself.” - -Good-naturedly Barbara laughed. If her new acquaintance insisted upon -taking her as a joke, at least she had enough sporting blood not to -grow angry, or at least if she were angry not to reveal it. - -“Well, what _are_ you going to be, Mr. Thornton?” Barbara queried, -shrugging her shoulders the slightest bit. “As long as you need not -develop into a physician on _my_ account, are you to be a lawyer like -your father?” - -Dick suppressed a groan. To look at her would you ever have imagined -that this little prairie flower of a girl would develop into a -serious-minded young woman demanding to hear about “your career”? Any -such idea must be nipped in the bud at once. - -“Oh, no, I am certainly _not_ going to study law, and if you don’t mind -my mentioning it, I get pretty bored with that suggestion. Everybody -I meet thinks because my father is one of the biggest lawyers in the -country that I must become his shadow. It is all right being known as -my ‘father’s son’ up to a certain point, but I’m not anxious to have -comparisons made between us as lawyers.” - -Barbara felt uncomfortable. She had not intended opening a subject that -seemed to be such an unfortunate one. So she only murmured, “I beg your -pardon.” - -And though Dick laughed and answered, “Don’t mention it,” there was -little more conversation between them for the rest of the drive home. - -But once at home in the big, sunny library, stretched out in an arm -chair, smoking while the girls were drinking tea, the young man became -more amiable. - -He had changed his outdoor clothes for a velvet smoking jacket and his -shoes for a pair of luxurious pumps. - -“I say, Mildred, old girl, would you mind ringing the bell and having -Brown bring me some matches?” he asked. Finding his own gone, he had -simply turned his head and smiled upon his sister. It happened that the -bell was within only a few feet of him and she had to cross the room to -accomplish his desire. - -Although Mildred was tired from a strenuous half hour devoted to -comforting her mother since their return from the ride, without -protesting or even appearing surprised, she did as she was asked. - -But Barbara Meade felt her own cheeks flushing. One need not stay -in the Thornton household for four entire days, as she had, before -becoming aware that it was the son of the family to whom every knee -must bow. His mother, sister, the servants appeared to adore him. -It was true that Judge Thornton attempted to show a little more -consideration for his daughter, but he was so seldom at home and when -there his attention was usually upon some problem of his own. - -More than once Barbara had felt sorry for Mildred. Of course, her -position looked like an enviable one as the only daughter of a wealthy -and distinguished man, with a beautiful mother and a charming brother. -Nevertheless, however little one liked to criticize their hostess even -in one’s own mind, Barbara could not but see that Mildred Thornton’s -life with her mother was a difficult one. - -In the first place, Mrs. Thornton was a fashionable society woman. In -spite of what might seem to most people riches, she was constantly -talking about how extremely poor they were and how she hoped that -Dick and Mildred would make matches that would bring money into the -family. She had the same dark eyes and olive coloring that her son -had inherited, and as her hair was a beautiful silver-white, it made -her face appear younger. She seemed to treat her daughter Mildred’s -plainness as a personal insult to herself and behaved as though Mildred -could have no feeling in the matter. Several times the visitor had -heard her refer to her daughter’s lack of beauty before strangers. - -But that Dick Thornton should dare treat his sister with the same lack -of consideration was insufferable! Barbara had a short, straight little -nose with the delicate nostrils that belong to most sensitive persons. -Now she could not help their arching with disdain, although she hoped -no one would notice her. - -Yet Dick was perfectly aware of her indignation and amused by it. He -was accustomed to having girls angry with him; it was one of the ways -in which they showed their interest. - -“I wonder if I would like to know what Miss Barbara Meade is at this -moment thinking of me?” he demanded lazily, smiling from under his -half-closed brown eyes and blowing a wreath of soft gray smoke into a -halo about his own head. - -The girl’s blue eyes had the trick of darkening suddenly. It was in -this way she betrayed her emotions before she could speak. - -“I was thinking,” she answered in a clear, cold little voice, “that I -have always been sorry before I never had a brother. But now I am not -so sure.” - -An abominably rude speech! The girl could not decide whether or not she -regretted having made it. Certainly there was an uncomfortable silence -in the big room until Mildred broke it. - -She had been gazing thoughtfully into the fire, which the April day -made agreeable, and talking very little. Now she shook her head in -protest. - -“Oh, brothers aren’t altogether bad,” she smiled. - -Barbara stammered. - -“No, of course not; I didn’t mean that. You must both forgive me. You -see, I have only a married sister who is years older than I am, and -my father. I suppose I have gotten too used to saying whatever pops -into my head. Perhaps the men in the west are more polite to girls -than eastern men. I don’t know exactly why, but they are bigger, -stronger men; they live outdoors and because their lives are sometimes -rough they try to have their manners gentle. Oh, goodness, I have -said something else impolite, haven’t I?” Barbara ended in such -consternation that her host and hostess both laughed. - -“Oh, don’t mind me; please go right ahead if it relieves your -feelings,” Dick remarked so humorously that Barbara felt it might be -difficult to dislike him intensely, however you might disapprove of him. - -“Only,” he added, “don’t start shooting verbal fireworks at the poor -wounded soldiers whom you are going to attempt to nurse. If a fellow -is down and out they might prove fatal. I say, Mill, did you ever hear -anything more absurd? Miss Meade has an idea that she is going over -to nurse the British Tommies. She looks more like she needed a nurse -herself--with a perambulator.” - -“Yes, I know, Barbara has talked it all over with me,” Mildred replied. -“We went together to the Red Cross headquarters today to see about -arrangements, when she could cross and what luggage she should take -with her. Four American girls are to go in a party and after they -arrive in England they will be sent where they are most needed. You -see, Barbara’s mother was an Irish woman, so she feels she is partly -British; and then her father was a West Point man. She meant to make -her living as a nurse anyhow, so why shouldn’t she be allowed to help -in the war? I understand exactly how Barbara feels.” - -Still gazing into the fire, Mildred’s face had grown paler and more -determined. “You see, I am going with her. I offered my own services -and was accepted this morning. We sail in ten days,” she concluded. - -“You, Mildred? What utter tommy-rot!” Dick exclaimed inelegantly. “The -mater is apt to lock you up in your room on a bread-and-water diet for -ten days for even suggesting such a thing.” Then he ceased talking -abruptly and pretended to be stifling a yawn. For, glancing up, he had -discovered that his mother was unexpectedly standing in the doorway. -She was dressed for dinner and looked very beautiful in a lavender -satin gown, but the expression on her face was not cheering. - -Evidently she had overheard Mildred’s confession and his sister was -in for at least a bad quarter of an hour. Personally Dick hoped his -own words had not betrayed her. For although he was a fairly useless, -good-for-nothing character, he wasn’t a cad, and for some reason or -other he particularly did not wish their visitor to consider him one. - - - - -CHAPTER III _Farewell_ - - -In the same sitting room and in the same chair, half an hour later, sat -Barbara Meade, but in a changed mood. She was alone. - -More ridiculously childish than ever she looked, with her small face -white and tears forcing their way into her eyes and down her cheeks. - -Yet from the music room adjoining the library came such exquisite -strains of a world-old and world-lovely melody sung in a charming tenor -voice, that the girl was compelled to listen. - - “Drink to me only with thine eyes - And I will pledge with mine.” - -Straight through the song went on to the end. But when it was finally -finished there was a moment’s silence. Then Dick Thornton appeared, -standing between the portieres dividing the two rooms. - -“Say, I am awfully sorry there was such a confounded row,” he began. -“But there is no use taking the matter so seriously, it is poor Mill’s -funeral, not yours. You seem to be the kind of independent young female -who goes ahead and does whatever reckless thing she likes without -asking anybody’s advice. But I do wish you would give the scheme up -too. Mildred will never be allowed to go with you. I don’t approve of -it any more than mother does. Just you stay on in New York and I’ll -show you the time of your life.” - -Dick looked so friendly and agreeable, enough to have softened almost -any heart. But Barbara was still thinking of the past half hour. - -“Thank you,” she returned coldly. “I haven’t the faintest idea of -giving up my purpose, even to ‘have the time of my life.’ And I do -think you were hateful not to have stood by your sister. Besides, -you might at least have said that you did not believe I had tried to -influence Mildred, when your mother accused me. She was extremely -unkind.” - -Entering the library Dick now took a chair not far from their -visitor’s, so that he could plainly observe the expressions on her face. - -“Of course, I didn’t stand up for Mill; I wouldn’t let her go into all -that sorrow and danger, even if mother consented,” he protested. “Your -coming here and all the talk you two girls have had about the poor, -brave, wounded soldiers and such stuff, of course has influenced Mill. -It has even influenced me--a little. But the fact is the war in Europe -isn’t our job.” - -“No, perhaps not,” the girl answered slowly, perhaps that she might add -the greater effect; “but would you mind telling me just what is your -job? You have already told me so many things that were not. Is it doing -one-steps and fox trots and singing fairly well? I presume I don’t -understand New York society, for out west our young men, no matter how -rich their fathers happen to be, try to amount to something themselves; -they do _some_ kind of work.” - -Under his nonchalant manner Dick had become angry. But no one knew -better than he the value of appearing cool in a disagreement with a -girl. So he only shrugged his shoulders in a dandified fashion. - -“I wonder why you think I am not at present engaged in a frantic -search for a job on which to expend my magnificent energy?” Here -Dick purposely yawned, extending his long legs into a more reposeful -position. “The fact is, I believe I must have been waiting for an -uncommonly frank young person from the west to give me the benefit -of her advice. What would you suggest as a career for me? Remember, -I saved your life this afternoon, so you may devote it to the -unfortunate. Now what would you think of my turning chauffeur? I’m not -a bad one; you ask our man. Who knows, perhaps driving an automobile is -my real gift!” - -Of course, her companion’s good humor again put her in the wrong, -although Barbara knew that she was wrong in any case. For what possible -right had she, after having known Dick Thornton less than a week, to -undertake to tell him what he should or should not do? It was curious -what a fighting instinct he had immediately aroused in her! She felt -that she would almost like to hit him in order to make him wake up and -realize that there was something in life besides being handsome and -good-natured and smiling lazily upon the world. - -However, Barbara now clasped her hands together, church fashion, -inclining her curly head. - -“Beg pardon again. After all, what should a Prince Charming be -except a Prince Charming?” she murmured. “You are a kind of liberal -education. I’ve lived such a work-a-day life, I can’t understand why -it seems so dreadful to you and your family to do the work one loves -in the place where it seems to be most needed. We nurses will be under -orders from people older and wiser than we are. If we come close to -suffering--well, one can’t live very long without doing that. But I -don’t want to bore you; you will be rid of me for life in a little -while, and I’ll leave now if your mother and father feel my plans are -affecting Mildred.” - -“You will do no such thing.” Dick’s voice was curt and less polite than -usual, but it was certainly decisive and so ended the discussion. - -A few minutes later, apparently in a happier frame of mind, Barbara -Meade was about to go upstairs when at the door she turned toward her -companion. - -“Please don’t think I fail to understand, Mr. Thornton, your not -wishing Mildred to go through the discomforts and even the dangers of -nursing the wounded soldiers. I suppose every nice brother naturally -wishes to protect and look after his sister. I told you I had never had -a brother, but you must not think for that reason I cannot appreciate -what you must feel.” - -Then with a quick movement characteristic of her smallness and grace, -Barbara was gone. - -Nevertheless Dick remained in the library alone until almost dinner -time. - -Barbara was right in believing that he hated the thought of his sister -Mildred’s being away from the care and affection of her own family. -Mildred might not be so handsome as he wished her and wasn’t much of -a talker, still there was no doubt that she was a trump in lots of -ways. Besides, after all, she was one’s own and only sister. Yet Dick -was honest with himself. It was not Mildred alone whom he desired to -protect from hardships. Absurd, of course, when the girl was almost a -stranger to him, yet Barbara Meade appeared more unfitted for the task -that she insisted upon undertaking than his sister. In the first place, -Barbara was younger, and certainly a hundred times prettier. Then in -spite of her ridiculous temper she was so tiny and looked so like a -child that one could only laugh at her. Moreover--oh, well, the worst -of it was, Dick felt convinced that she was just the kind of a girl he -could have a delightful time with, if he had a proper chance. She had -confessed to loving to dance in spite of her sarcasm. So she should -have at least a few dances with him before fate swept her out of his -way forever. - - * * * * * - -Ten days later, as early as nine o’clock in the morning, Mrs. -Thornton’s limousine was to be seen threading its way in and out among -the trucks and wagons along lower Broadway on its way to the American -Line steamship pier, No. 62. - -Inside the car were seated Mrs. Thornton and Mildred, Judge Thornton, -Dick and Barbara Meade. Behind them a taxicab piled with luggage was -following. The “Philadelphia” was sailing at eleven o’clock that -morning and included among her passenger list four American Red Cross -nurses on their way to a mission of relief and love. - -In the Thornton automobile not alone was Barbara Meade arrayed for an -ocean crossing, but Mildred Thornton also appeared to be wearing a -traveling outfit. More extraordinary, the greater part of the luggage -on the taxicab behind them bore the initials “M. F. T.” Besides, -Mildred was sitting close to her father with her cheek pressed against -his shoulder and holding tight to his hand, while the Judge looked -entirely and completely miserable. - -Should anything happen to Mildred, he, who loved her best, would be -responsible. For he had finally yielded to her persuasions, upholding -her in her desire, against the repeated objections of his wife and son. -Just why he had come round to Mildred’s wish, for the life of him the -Judge could not now decide. What was happening to this world anyhow -when girls, even a gentle, sweet-tempered one like Mildred, insisted -on “making something of their own lives,” “doing something useful,” -“following their own consciences and not some one’s else?” Really the -Judge could not at present recall with what arguments and pleadings his -daughter had finally influenced him. But he did wonder why at present -he should feel so utterly dejected at the thought of Mildred’s leaving, -when her mother appeared positively triumphant. - -Yet the fact is that within the last few days Mrs. Thornton had -entirely changed her original point of view. She had discovered that -instead of Mildred’s engaging in an enterprise both unwomanly and -unbecoming, actually she was doing the most fashionable thing of the -hour. Never before had Mildred received so much notice and praise. -Positively her mother glowed remembering what their friends had been -saying of Mildred’s nobility of character. How fine it was that she -had a nature that could not be satisfied with nothing save social -frivolities! - -Letters of introduction to a number of the best people in England had -been pouring in upon them. One from Mrs. Whitehall to her sister, the -Countess of Sussex, was particularly worth while. Mrs. Thornton had -never before known that she dared include the writer among her friends. -Moreover, Mildred had lately been receiving unexpected attentions from -the young men who had never before paid her the slightest notice. Half -a dozen of them within the past few days had called to say good-by -and express their admiration of her pluck. Two or three had declared -themselves openly envious of her. For if there were great things going -on in the world, no matter how tragic and dreadful, one would feel -tremendously worth while to be right on the spot and able to judge for -oneself. - -Then Dick had reported that Mildred had been more than a halfway belle -at a dance that he had insisted upon his sister and their visitor -attending before they shut themselves off from all amusements. Such a -lot of fellows wanted to talk to Mill about her plans that they seemed -not to care that she could not dance any better. - -Although there were only between fifty and sixty passengers booked for -sailing on the “Philadelphia’s” list, the big dock was crowded with -freight of every kind. - -On an adjoining dock there was a tremendous stamping of horses. Not far -off one of the Atlantic Transport boats was being rapidly transformed -into a gigantic stable. Its broad passenger decks were being divided -into hundreds of box stalls. Into the hold immensely heavy boxes were -being hoisted with derricks and cranes. The whole atmosphere of the -New York Harbor front appeared to have changed. Where once there used -to be people about to sail for Europe now there appeared to be things -taking their place. No longer were pleasure-loving Americans crossing -the ocean, but the product of their lands and their hands. - -However, Mildred and Barbara gave only a cursory attention to these -impersonal matters, and Mildred’s family very little more. They were -deeply interested in a meeting which was soon to take place. - -Their little party was to consist of four American nurses sent out to -assist the British Red Cross wherever their services were most needed. - -So far Mildred and Barbara had not even seen the other two girls. -However, Judge and Mrs. Thornton had been assured that one was an older -woman, who had already had some years’ experience in nursing and could -also act as chaperon. About the fourth girl nothing of any kind had -been told them. - -Therefore, within five minutes after their arrival at the wharf, Miss -Moore, one of the Red Cross workers in the New York headquarters from -whom the girls had received instructions, joined them. With her was -a girl, or a young woman (for she might be any age between twenty -or thirty) for whom Mildred and Barbara both conceived an immediate -prejudice. They were not willing to call the sensation dislike, -because travelers upon a humanitarian crusade must dislike no one, and -especially not one of their fellow laborers. - -Eugenia Peabody was the stranger’s name. She had come from a small -town in Massachusetts. Her clothes were severely plain, a rusty brown -walking suit that must have seen long service, as well as a shabby -brown coat. Then she had on an absurd hat that looked like a man’s, and -her hair was parted in the middle and drawn back on either side. She -had handsome dark eyes, so that one could not call her exactly ugly. -Only she seemed terribly cold and superior and unsympathetic. - -But the fourth girl, Miss Moore explained, by some accident had -failed to arrive in time for the steamer. She was to have come from -Charleston, South Carolina, having made her application and sent her -credentials from there. It was foolish of her to have waited until the -last hour before arriving in New York. Now her train had been delayed, -and as her passage had been engaged, the money would simply have to be -wasted. Had the Red Cross Society known beforehand, another nurse could -have taken her place. - -The next hour and a half was one of painful confusion. Surely so few -passengers never before had so many friends to see them off. Farewells -these days meant more than partings under ordinary circumstances. No -matter what pretense might be made to the contrary, in every mind, -deep in every heart was the possibility that a passenger steamer might -strike a floating mine. - -Of course, Barbara had been forced to say her hardest farewells before -leaving her home in Nebraska. Nevertheless, she could not now help -sharing Mildred’s emotions and those of her family. Besides, the -Thorntons had been so kind to her in the past two weeks. Mrs. Thornton -had apologized for blaming her for Mildred’s decision, but after all -it was easy to understand her feeling in the matter. Judge Thornton -was one of the biggest-hearted, dearest men in the world. Then there -was Dick! Of course, he was a good-for-nothing fellow who would never -amount to much except to be a spoiled darling all his days! Yet -certainly he was attractive and had been wonderfully sweet-tempered and -courteous to her. - -Even this morning he had never allowed her to feel lonely for an -instant. Always he saw that she was among the groups of their friends -who were showering attentions upon Mildred--books and flowers and -sweets, besides various extraordinary things which she was recommended -to use in her work. - -Dick’s farewell present Barbara thought a little curious. It was an -extremely costly electric lamp mounted in silver to carry about in her -pocket. - -“It is to help you see your way, if you should ever get lost or have to -go out at night while you are doing that plagued nursing,” he whispered -just as the final whistles blew and the friends of the passengers were -being put ashore. - -As Dick ran down the gang-plank, both Mildred and Barbara were watching -him with their eyes full of tears. Suddenly he had to step aside in -order not to run over a girl hurrying up the plank from the shore. She -was dressed in deep mourning; her hair was of the purest gold and her -eyes brown. She had two boys with her, each one of them carrying an -extraordinary looking old-fashioned carpet bag of a pattern of fifty -years ago. - -“I regret it if I have kept you waiting,” she said in a soft, drawling -voice to one of the stewards who happened to be nearest the gang-plank. -“I’ve come all the way from Charleston, South Carolina, and my train -was four hours late.” - -The tears driven away by curiosity, Mildred and Barbara now stared at -each other. Was this the fourth girl who was to accompany them as a Red -Cross nurse? She looked less like a nurse than any one of them. Why, -she was as fragile as possible herself, and evidently had never been -away from home before in her life. Now she was under the impression -that the steamer had been kept waiting for her. Certainly she was -apologizing to the steward for delaying them. - -Yet a glance at their older companion and both girls felt a warm -companionship for the newcomer. For if Miss Peabody had been -discouraged on being introduced to them, it was nothing to the disfavor -she now allowed herself to show at the appearance of the fourth member -of their little Red Cross band. - -A little later, with deep blasts from her whistle, the “Philadelphia” -began to move out. Amid much waving of handkerchiefs, both on deck and -on shore, the voyage had begun. - - - - -CHAPTER IV _Making Acquaintances_ - - -“In my opinion no one of you girls will remain in Europe three months, -at least not as a nurse. You are going over because of an emotion or an -enthusiasm--same thing! You are too young and have not had sufficient -experience for the regular Red Cross nursing. Besides, you haven’t the -faintest idea of what may lie ahead of you,” Eugenia Peabody announced. - -It was a sunshiny day, although not a calm one, yet the “Philadelphia” -was making straight ahead. She was a narrow boat that pitched rather -than rolled. Nevertheless, a poor sailor could scarcely be expected -to enjoy the plunging she was now engaging in. It was as if one were -riding a horse who rose first on his forefeet and then on his hind -feet, tossing his rider relentlessly back and forth. - -So, although the four Red Cross girls were seated on the upper deck -in their steamer chairs and at no great distance apart, no forcible -protest followed the oldest one’s statement. - -However, from under the shelter of her close-fitting squirrel-fur cap -Barbara’s blue eyes looked belligerent. She was wearing a coat of the -same kind. The next moment she protested: - -“Of course, we have not had the experience required for salaried -nurses, and of course we are a great deal younger than you” (as Barbara -was not enamored of Eugenia she made this remark with intentional -emphasis). “But I don’t consider it fair for you to decide for that -reason we are going to be useless. The Red Cross was willing that -we should help in some way, even though we can’t be enrolled nurses -until we have had two years’ hospital work. Mildred and I have both -graduated, and Nona Davis has had one year’s work. Besides, soldiers, -often when they are quite young boys, go forth to battle and do -wonderful things. Who knows what we may accomplish? Sometimes success -comes just from pluck and the ability to hold on. Right this minute you -can’t guess, Miss Peabody, which one of us is brave and which one may -be a coward; there is no telling till the test comes.” - -Then after her long tirade Barbara again subsided into the depth of -her chair. What a spitfire she was! Really, she must learn to control -her temper, for if the four of them were to work together, they must -be friends. Dick Thornton had been right. Perhaps the wounded soldiers -might have a hard time with a crosspatch for a nurse. But this Miss -Peabody was so painfully superior, so “Bostonese”! Even if she _had_ -come only from a small Massachusetts town, it had been situated close -to the sacred city, and Eugenia had been educated there. Small wonder -that she had little use for a girl from far-off Nebraska! - -Nevertheless, Eugenia’s cheeks had crimsoned at Barbara’s speech and -her expression ruffled, although her hair remained as smooth as if the -wind had not been blowing at the rate of sixty miles an hour. - -“That is one way of looking at things,” she retorted. “I suppose almost -anybody willing to make sacrifices can be useful at the front these -days,” she conceded. “But, really, I do not consider that I am so very -much older than the rest of you, even if I am acting as your chaperon. -I have always looked older than I am. I was only twenty-five my last -birthday and one can’t be an enrolled Red Cross nurse any younger than -that--at least, not in America.” - -“Oh, I beg pardon,” Barbara replied. At the same time she was thinking -that twenty-five was considerably older than eighteen and nineteen, and -that before seven years had passed she expected a good many interesting -things to have happened to her. - -But a soft drawl interrupted Barbara’s train of thought. Issuing from -the depth of a steamer blanket it had a kind of smothered sound. - -“I am older than the rest of you think. I am twenty-one,” the voice -announced. “I only seem younger because I am stupid and have never -been away from home before. My father was quite old when I was born, -so I have nearly always taken care of him. He was a general in the -Confederate army. I’ve heard nothing but war-talk my whole life and the -great things the southern women sacrificed for the soldiers. My mother -I don’t know a great deal about.” - -For a moment Nona seemed to be hesitating. “My father died a year ago. -There was nobody to care a great deal what became of me except some -old friends. So when this war broke out, I felt I must help if only -the least little bit. I sold everything I had for my expenses, except -my father’s old army pistol and the ragged half of a Confederate flag; -these I brought along with me. But please forgive my talking so much -about myself. It seemed to me if we were to be together that we ought -to know a little about one another. I haven’t told you everything. My -father’s family, even though we were poor----” - -Nona paused, and Barbara smiled. Even Eugenia melted slightly, while -Mildred took hold of the hand that lay outside the steamer blanket. - -“Don’t trouble to tell us anything you would rather not, Miss Davis,” -she returned. “We have only to see and talk to you to have faith in -you. Of course, we don’t have to tell family _secrets_; that would be -expecting rather too much.” - -With a sigh suggesting relief Nona Davis glanced away from her -companions toward the water. The girl was like a white and yellow lily, -with her pale skin, pure gold hair and brown eyes with golden centers. -In her life she had never had an intimate girl friend. Now with all her -heart she was hoping that her new acquaintances might learn to care for -her. And yet if they knew what had kept her shut away from other girls, -perhaps they too might feel the old prejudice! - -But suddenly happier and stronger than since their sailing, Nona -straightened up. Then she arranged her small black felt hat more -becomingly. - -“I don’t want to talk _all_ the time, only really I am stronger than I -look. As I know French pretty well, perhaps I may at least be useful -in that way.” - -The girl’s expression suddenly altered. A reserve that was almost -haughtiness swept over it. For she had been the first to notice a -fellow passenger walking up and down the deck in front of them. She had -now stopped at a place where she could overhear what they were saying. -The girls had agreed not to discuss their plans on shipboard. It seemed -wisest not to let their fellow passengers know that they were going -abroad to help with Red Cross nursing. For in consequence there might -be a great deal of talk, questions would be asked, unnecessary advice -given. Besides, the girls did not yet know what duties were to be -assigned them. They were ordered to go to a British Red Cross, deliver -their credentials and await results. - -So everything that might have betrayed their mission had been carefully -packed away in their trunks and bags. Moreover, in the hold of the -steamer there were great wooden packing cases of gauze bandaging, -medicines and antiseptics which Judge Thornton had given Mildred and -Barbara as his farewell offering. These were to be presented to the -hospital where the girls would be stationed. - -Now, although Nona Davis had become aware of the curiosity of the -traveler who had taken up a position near them, Eugenia Peabody had -not. So before the younger girl could warn her she exclaimed: - -“Hope you won’t think I meant to be disagreeable. Of course, you may -turn out better nurses than I; perhaps experience _isn’t_ everything.” - -There was no doubt this time that Eugenia intended being agreeable, yet -her manner was still curt. She seemed one of the unfortunate persons -without charm, who manage to antagonize just when they wish to be -agreeable. - -At this moment the stranger made no further effort at keeping in the -background. Instead she walked directly toward the four girls. - -“I chanced to overhear you saying something about Red Cross nursing,” -she began. “Can it be that you are going over to help care for the -poor soldiers? How splendid of you! I do hope you don’t mind my being -interested?” - -Of course the girls did mind. However, there was nothing to do under -the circumstances. Barbara alone made a faint effort at denial. Eugenia -simply looked annoyed because she had been the one who had betrayed -them. Mildred showed surprise. But Nona Davis answered in a well-bred -voice that seemed to put undesirable persons at a tremendous distance -away: - -“As long as you did overhear what we were saying, would you mind our -not discussing the question with you. We have an idea that we prefer -keeping our plans a secret among ourselves.” - -Yet neither Nona’s words nor her manner had the desired effect. The -stranger sat down on the edge of a chair that happened to be near. - -“That is all right, my dear, if you prefer I shall not mention it. Only -there is no reason why _I_ should not know. I am a much older woman -than any of you, and I too am going abroad because of this horrible -war, though not to do the beautiful work you expect to do.” - -At this moment the newcomer smiled in a kind yet anxious fashion, -so that three of the girls were propitiated. After all, she was -a middle-aged woman of about fifty, quietly and inexpensively -dressed, and she had a timid, confidential manner. Somehow one felt -unaccountably sorry for her. - -“I am traveling with my son,” she explained. “You may have noticed the -young man in dark glasses. My son is a newspaper correspondent and -is now going to try to get into the British lines. He was ill when -the war broke out or we should have crossed over sooner. There may -be difficulties about our arrangements. After his illness I was not -willing that he should go into danger unless I was near him. Then his -eyes still trouble him so greatly that I sometimes help with his work.” - -She leaned over and whispered more confidentially than ever: - -“I am Mrs. John Curtis, my son is Brooks Curtis, you may be familiar -with his name. I only wanted to say that if at any time I can be -useful, either on shipboard or if we should run across each other in -Europe, please don’t hesitate to call upon me. I had a daughter of my -own once and had she lived I have no doubt she would now be following -your example.” - -Actually the older woman’s eyes were filling with tears, and although -the girls felt embarrassed by her confidences they were touched and -grateful, all except Nona Davis, who seemed in a singularly difficult -humor. - -“You are awfully kind, Mrs. Curtis, I am sure,” Mildred was murmuring, -when Nona asked unexpectedly: - -“Mrs. Curtis, if your son has trouble with his eyes, I wonder why I -have so often seen him with his glasses off gazing out to sea through a -pair of immense telescope glasses? I should think the strain would be -bad for him.” - -Half a moment the older woman hesitated, then leaning over toward the -little group, she whispered: - -“You must not be frightened by anything I tell you. Sailing under the -American flag we of course ought to feel perfectly safe, but you girls -must know the possibilities we face these days. I think perhaps because -I am with him my son may be a little too anxious. However, I shall -certainly tell him he is not to take off his glasses again during the -voyage. You are right; it may do him harm.” - -A few moments later Mrs. Curtis strolled away. But by this time Nona -Davis was sitting bolt upright with more color in her face than she had -shown since the hour of her arrival. - -“I do hope we may not have to see a great deal of Mrs. Curtis,” she -volunteered. - -“Why not?” Mildred asked. “I thought her very nice. I feel that my -mother would like us to be friends with an older woman; she might be -able to give us good advice. Please tell us why you object to her?” - -The other girl shook her head. - -“I am sure I don’t know. I don’t suppose I have any _real_ reason. You -see, I don’t often have reasons for things; at least, not the kind I -know how to explain to other people. But my old colored mammy used to -say I was a ‘second sighter.’” - - - - -CHAPTER V “_Lady Dorian_” - - -Very carefully the young man in the dark glasses must have considered -which one of the four American girls traveling together he might expect -to find most worth while. Then he chose Mildred Thornton. - -And this was odd, for to a casual observer Mildred was the least -good looking and the least gay of the four. Even Eugenia, in spite -of her severe manner, had a certain handsomeness and under softening -influences might improve both in appearance and disposition. - -Nevertheless, it was with Mildred that Nona Davis, coming out of her -stateroom half an hour before dinner, discovered the young man talking. - -It happened that Nona and Mildred shared the same stateroom while the -two other girls were just across the narrow passageway. As the decks -were apt to be freer from other passengers at this hour preceding -dinner, they had arranged for a quiet walk. But now, although seeing -her plainly enough, Nona soon realized that Mildred had no idea of -keeping her engagement. She was far too deeply engrossed in her new -companion. It was annoying, this eternal feminine habit of choosing any -kind of masculine society in preference to the most agreeable feminine! -However, Nona made no sign or protest. She merely betook herself to the -opposite side of the boat and started a solitary stroll. - -There was no one to interfere and she was virtually alone, as this -happened to be the windy, disagreeable portion of the deck. Of their -meeting with Mrs. Curtis the day before no one had spoken since, but -now Nona could not help recalling her own impression. She was sorry for -her sudden prejudice and more so for her open expression of it. - -“I must try and not distrust people,” she thought remorsefully. -“Suspicion made my father’s life bitter and shut me away from other -girls. So, should circumstances compel us to meet this Mrs. Curtis and -her son (and one never knows when chance may throw strangers together), -why I shall never, never say a word against them.” - -Nona was looking out toward a curious purple and smoke-colored sunset -at the edge of the western sky as she made this resolution. Perhaps -because the vision before her had somehow suggested the smoke of battle -and the strange, dreadful world toward which they were voyaging. -Eugenia was right. No one of them could dream of what lay ahead. - -For a moment she had paused and was standing with one hand resting -on the ship’s railing when to her surprise Mildred Thornton’s voice -sounded close beside her. - -“Nona, I want to introduce Mr. Curtis,” she began. “We have been trying -to find you. Oh, I confess I did see you a few moments ago, only I -pretended I had not. Mr. Curtis was telling me something so interesting -I did not wish to interrupt him for fear he might not repeat it.” - -Mildred’s eyes had darkened with excitement and she was speaking in a -hushed voice, although no one appeared to be near. - -Nona Davis extended her hand to the young man. “My name is Davis,” she -began. “Miss Thornton forgot to mention it, for although we have known -each other but a few days we are already using our first names.” - -Then she struggled with a sense of distaste. The hand that received -hers was large and bony and curiously limp and unresponsive. Afterwards -Nona studied the young fellow’s face. It was difficult to get a vital -impression of him when his eyes were so hidden from view, but of one -thing she became assured--he was not particularly young. - -He was tall and had a fringe of light brown hair around a circular -space where the hair was plainly growing thinner. His face was smooth, -his mouth irregular and he had a large inquiring nose. Indeed, Nona -decided that the young man suggested a human question mark, although -his eyes--and eyes can ask more questions than the tongue--were partly -concealed. - -“Mr. Curtis has been a war correspondent before,” Mildred went on, -showing an enthusiasm that was unusual with her. “He has just returned -from the war in Mexico and has been telling me of the horrors down -there.” - -“But I thought,” Nona Davis replied and then hesitated. What she was -thinking was, that Mrs. Curtis had mentioned her son’s long illness. -This may have followed his return; he was not particularly healthy -looking. Not knowing exactly how to conclude her sentence, she was glad -to have Mildred whisper: - -“Mr. Curtis says he has secret information that our ship is carrying -supplies for the Allies. Oh, of course we are on an American passenger -boat and it sounds incredible, but then nothing is past belief these -days.” - -Nevertheless, the other girl shook her head doubtingly. She was a -little annoyed at the expression of entire faith with which Mildred -gazed upon their latest acquaintance. She wondered if Mildred were -the type of girl who believed anything because a _man_ told her it -was true. Odd that she did not feel that way herself, when all her -life she had been taught to depend wholly upon masculine judgment. -But there were odd stirrings of revolt in the little southern girl of -which she was not yet aware. She appeared flowerlike and gentle in -her old-fashioned black costume. One would have thought she had no -independence of body or mind, but like a flower could be swayed by any -wind. - -“Oh, I don’t expect we are carrying anything except hospital supplies -of the same kind your father is sending, Mildred,” she answered. Then -turning apologetically toward the young newspaper man: “I beg your -pardon, I didn’t mean to doubt your word, only your information.” - -However, Brooks Curtis was not paying any attention to her. Instead he -was gazing reproachfully at Mildred and at the same time attempting to -smile. - -“Is that the way you keep a secret, Miss Thornton?” he demanded. “Of -course, your friend is right. I have no absolute information. Who has -in these war times? I only wanted you to realize that in case trouble -arises you are to count on my mother and me.” - -He appeared to make the last remark idly and without emphasis, -notwithstanding Mildred flushed uneasily. - -“You don’t mean that there may be an explosion on shipboard or a danger -of that kind,” she expostulated. “It sounds absurd, I know, but I am -nervous about the water. I have crossed several times before, but -always with my father and brother.” - -While she was speaking Nona Davis had slipped her arm reassuringly -inside her new friend’s. “Nonsense,” she said quietly. “Mr. Curtis -is trying to tease us.” Then deliberately she drew Mildred away and -commenced their postponed walk. It was just as well, because at this -instant Mrs. Curtis had come on deck to join her son. - -A little farther along and Nona pressed her delicate cheek against her -taller companion’s sleeve. “For heaven’s sake don’t let Miss Peabody -know you are afraid of an accident at sea when you are going into the -midst of a world tragedy,” she whispered. “Eugenia believes we are -hopeless enough as it is. But whenever you are frightened, Mildred--and -of course we must all be now and then--won’t you confide in me?” Nona’s -tones and the expression of her golden brown eyes were wistful and -appealing. - -“You see, it is queer, but I don’t fear what other people do. I have -certain foolish terrors of my own that I may tell you of some day. For -one thing, I am afraid of ghosts. I don’t exactly believe in them, but -I was brought up by an old colored mammy who instilled many of her -superstitions into me.” - -Their conversation ended at this because Barbara and Eugenia Peabody -were now walking toward them, both looking distinctly unamiable. It was -unfortunate that the two girls should be rooming together. They were -most uncongenial, and so far spent few hours in each other’s society -without an altercation of some kind. - -Nona smiled at their approach. “And east is east and west is west, and -never the twain shall meet,” she quoted mischievously. Then she became -sober again because she too had a wholesome awe of the eldest member of -their party, and Eugenia’s eyes held fire. - -Some powerful current of electricity must have been at work in that -portion of the universe through which the “Philadelphia” was ploughing -her way that evening. - -For as soon as they entered the ship’s dining room the four girls -became aware of a tense atmosphere which had never been there before. -They chanced to be a few moments late, so that the other voyagers were -already seated. - -Mildred Thornton, by special courtesy, was on the Captain’s right hand -and Barbara Meade on his left (this attention was a tribute to Judge -Thornton’s position in New York); Nona was next Mildred and Eugenia -next Barbara. - -Then on Nona Davis’ other side sat a beautiful woman of perhaps thirty -in whom the four girls were deeply interested. But not because she had -been in the least friendly with them, or with any one else aboard -ship, not even with Captain Miller, who was a splendid big Irishman, -one of the most popular officers in the service, and to whom the Red -Cross girls were already deeply attached. - -Four days had passed since the “Philadelphia” sailed and the voyage was -now more than half over. But except that she appeared on the passenger -list as “Lady Dorian,” no one knew anything of the young woman’s -identity. Her name was English, and yet she did not look English and -spoke, when conversation was forced upon her, with a slightly foreign -accent, which might be Russian, or possibly German. However, she never -talked to anyone and only came to the table at dinner time, rarely -appearing upon deck and never without her maid. - -But tonight as the girls took their places at the dinner table it was -evident that Lady Dorian had been speaking and that her conversation -had been upon a subject which Captain Miller had requested no one -mention during the course of the voyage--the war! - -Every one of the sixteen persons at the Captain’s table looked flushed -and excited, Mrs. Curtis at the farther end was in tears, and an -English banker, Sir George Paxton, who had lately been in Washington on -public business, appeared in danger of apoplexy. - -“What is the trouble, Captain?” Barbara whispered, as soon as she had -half a chance. She was a special favorite of Captain Miller’s and they -had claimed cousinship at once on account of their Irish ancestry. - -“Bombs!” the Captain murmured, “not real ones; worse kind, -conversational bombs. That Curtis fellow started the question of -whether the United States had the right to furnish ammunition to the -Allies. Then Lady Dorian began some kind of peace talk, to which the -Englishman objected. Can’t tell you exactly what it was all about, as I -had to try to quiet things down. They may start to blowing up my ship -next; this war talk makes sane people turn suddenly crazy.” - -A movement made Barbara glance across the table. Although dinner was -only beginning, Lady Dorian had risen and was leaving. - -No wonder the girls admired her appearance. Barbara swallowed a little -sigh of envy. Never, no never, could she hope to go trailing down a -long room with all eyes turned upon her, looking so beautiful and cold -and distinguished. This was one of the many trials of being small and -darting about so quickly and having short hair and big blue eyes like -a baby’s. One’s hair could grow, but, alas, not one’s self, after a -certain age! - -Lady Dorian was probably about five feet seven, which is presumably the -ideal height for a woman, since it is the height of the Venus de Milo. -She had gray eyes with black brows and lashes and dark hair that was -turning gray. This was perfectly arranged, parted at the side and in a -low coil. Tonight she had on a gown of black satin and chiffon. Though -she wore no jewels there was no other woman present with such an air of -wealth and distinction. - -The instant she had disappeared, however, Mrs. Curtis turned to her -son, speaking in a voice sufficiently loud to be heard by every one at -the Captain’s table. - -“I don’t believe for a moment that woman’s name is ‘Lady Dorian.’ She -is most certainly not an English woman. Even if she is married to an -Englishman she is undoubtedly pro-German in her sentiments. I shouldn’t -be surprised if she is--well, most anything.” - -Brooks Curtis flushed, vainly attempting to silence his mother. -Evidently she was one of the irrepressible people who would not be -silenced. The Red Cross girls need not have been flattered or annoyed -by her attentions. She appeared one of the light-minded women who go -about talking to everybody, apparently confiding their own secrets -and desiring other confidences in exchange. She seemed to be harmless -though trying. - -But the Captain’s great voice boomed down the length of the table. - -“No personalities, please. Who is going to tell me the best story -before I go back on duty? Perhaps Miss Davis will tell us some negro -stories!” - -Nona blushed uncomfortably. She was shy at being suddenly made the -center of observation, yet she appreciated the Captain’s intention. - -Nevertheless, and in spite of her best efforts, the disagreeable -atmosphere in the dining room remained. Mrs. Curtis was not alone in -her suspicion of the vanished woman. There was not another person at -the table who did not in a greater or less degree share it. Lady Dorian -was strangely reserved about her history in these troublous war times. -Then she had been trying to keep her point of view concealed. However, -to the Red Cross girls, or at least to the three younger ones, she was -a romantic, fascinating figure. One could easily conceive of her in a -tragic role. Secretly both Barbara and Nona decided to try to know her -better if this were possible without intrusion. - -An hour after dinner and the Red Cross girls were in bed. There was -nothing to do to amuse oneself, as the lights must be extinguished -by half-past eight o’clock. The Captain meant to take no risks of -over-zealous German cruisers or submarines. - - - - -CHAPTER VI _A Trial of Fire_ - - -At dawn Barbara awakened perfectly refreshed. She felt that she had -been asleep for an indefinite length of time, and although she made a -slight effort, further sleep was impossible. How long before the hour -for her bath, and how stuffy their little stateroom had become! - -Barbara occupied the upper berth. Swinging herself a little over the -side she saw that Eugenia was breathing deeply. Asleep Barbara conceded -that Eugenia might almost be called handsome. Her features were well -cut, her dark hair smooth and abundant, and her expression peaceful. -However, even with consciousness somewhere on the other side of things -Eugenia still looked like an old maid. Barbara wondered if she had -ever had an admirer in her life. Although wishing to give Eugenia the -benefit of the doubt, she scarcely thought so. It would have made her -less difficult surely! - -Twice Barbara turned over and burrowed her curly brown head in her -pillow. She dared not even move very strenuously for fear of waking -her companion and arousing her ire. Of course, it was irritating to be -awakened at daylight, but then how was she to endure the stupidity and -stuffiness of their room without some entertainment? If only she could -read or study her French, but there was not yet sufficient daylight, -and turning on the electric light was too perilous. - -Staring up at the ceiling only a few feet above her head where the life -belts protruded above the white planking, Barbara had a sudden vision -of what the dawn must be like at this hour upon the sea. How she longed -for the rose and silver spectacle. Had she not been wishing to see the -sunrise every morning since coming aboard ship? And here at last was -her opportunity. Should Eugenia be disagreeable enough to awaken she -must simply face the music. - -Noiselessly Barbara’s bare toes were extended over the side of the -berth and then she reached the floor with almost no perceptible sound. -She was so tiny and light she could do things more quietly than other -people. A few moments later she had on her shoes and stockings, her -underclothing and her heavy coat, with the little squirrel cap over her -hair. It would be cold up on deck. But one need not be particularly -careful of one’s costume, since there would probably be no one about -except a weary officer changing his watch. It was too early for the -sailors to have begun washing the decks, else she must have heard the -noise before this. Their stateroom was below the promenade deck. - -As Barbara closed the outside door of their room she heard Eugenia -stirring. But she slipped away without her conscience being in -the least troublesome. If Eugenia was at last aroused, she would -not be there to be reproached. The thought rather added zest to -her enterprise. Besides, it was wrong for a trained nurse to be -a sleepy-head; one ought to be awake and ready at all times for -emergencies. Had Barbara needed spurs to her own ideals of helpfulness -in her nursing, she had found them in Eugenia’s and in Dick Thornton’s -openly expressed doubts of her. Whatever came, she must make good or -perish. - -The deck was not inspiring. Barbara had anticipated the sunrise. Over -toward the eastern line of the horizon the darkness had lifted, but -as yet there was no color. The sky and water were curiously the same, -a translucent gray. One felt but could not see the light beneath. The -ship was making steady progress because there was now no wind and the -surface of the sea appeared perfectly smooth. - -For a few moments the girl walked up and down to keep warm and to wait -for the dawn. Then she found her steamer chair, pulled it into such -a position that it commanded an unbroken view of the horizon, and -covering herself with steamer blankets, stared straight ahead. - -A little later at some distance away she saw something black thrust -itself above the surface of the water and then disappear. It looked -like a gigantic nose. - -Barbara’s breath began to come more quickly and grasping hold of the -arms of her chair she half arose. But now the black object had appeared -again and was coming closer to the ship. Of course, she had been -thinking of a submarine. However, she could now see that the creature -was being followed by a perfectly irrepressible family connection of -porpoises, dipping their heads under the waves, flirting their tails in -a picturesque fashion and dancing a kind of sea tango. - -Then the porpoises disappeared. Calmer than she had ever imagined grew -the entire face of the water, stiller the atmosphere. This was the -strange moment of silence that follows the breaking of each new day. -Perchance it may be nature’s time for silent prayer. - -Anyhow Barbara was familiar enough with this moment on land. It is the -moment in nursing the sick when one must be most watchful and strong. -Then life struggles to get away from the exhausted body on strange new -quests of its own. But Barbara had never faced a dawn upon the sea. - -She wished now that she had called Mildred and Nona; perhaps they -too would have cared for the oncoming spectacle. Then Barbara forgot -herself and her soul filled with wonder. The sun had risen. It threw -great streams of light across the sky like giant banners, of such -colors as no army of the world has ever fought under, and these showed -a second time upon the mirror of the sea. A few moments they stayed -like this, and then melted together into red and violet and rose, until -after a while the day’s serener blue conquered and held the sky. - -Weary from the beauty and her own emotion, Barbara closed her eyes, -meaning to go downstairs as soon as the sailors came on deck. However, -she must have fallen asleep for a few moments. Reopening her eyes she -had a distinct conviction that she must be dreaming. Undoubtedly she -was seeing an impossible thing. A few feet away from her chair, forcing -its way between the planks of the floor, was a small spiral column of -smoke. - -It could not be smoke, of course, one felt convinced of that; yet it -was odd that it should look and behave so much like smoke. - -Barbara got herself disentangled from her steamer rugs and jumped to -her feet. This was a reliable method of waking oneself up. She took -a single step forward and then turned and ran along the deck to the -stairway more swiftly than she had ever run in her life. She was not -mistaken, it _was_ smoke issuing from underneath the deck. Possibly -this meant nothing serious, no one in the world could know less of a -ship than she did. Then there was a possibility that their steamer -might be on fire, when the crew must be alarmed at once. Barbara had -not studied to become a trained nurse without learning coolness. Under -no circumstances must she cry fire and so create a panic. She had no -other conscious thought except that she must find one of the ship’s -officers or sailors and give the alarm. - -But before she was more than half along the companion way the girl -heard a noise like the explosion of a muffled gun. Straightway she -pitched face forward down the steps. Nevertheless she was not hurt. -The next instant she was up and running along the hall, reached the -door of her own stateroom just as Eugenia flung the door open. At the -same time Nona’s and Mildred’s white faces stared forth. - -“Put on some clothes quickly. There has been an accident, I don’t know -how serious,” Barbara commanded. But the information was scarcely -necessary. Already the ship seemed alive with running feet. Commands -were being shouted, while as by magic stewards were urging the -passengers to be calm, insisting there was no danger. The trouble was -probably not serious, yet they must be prepared. - -Barbara entered her stateroom. Her pocketbook and a few valuables she -must try to save in case they had to take to the life-boats. - -In the middle of the room she found Eugenia Peabody in her nightgown, -shaking with terror and making not the least effort to get dressed. - -Barbara forgot the respect due to their chaperon. Deliberately she -seized her by the shoulders and began shaking her severely. It was -absurd, or would have been under other circumstances. Eugenia was so -much taller and larger and older than her companion that it looked as -if a governess were being disciplined by a small pupil. - -However, the younger girl was terribly in earnest. “Don’t lose your -senses,” she protested angrily. Then darting about the tiny room in an -incredible time she secured the other girl’s clothes and got her into -them in a haphazard fashion. - -Finally Eugenia fled to the closed door, only to be dragged back by her -companion. - -“Your shoes and stockings, please, Miss Peabody,” Barbara argued -determinedly. “There is no immediate danger or we would be warned. -Now let us find the other girls. Remember we are Red Cross nurses and -not young society women.” If the ship had been sinking Barbara Meade -felt that she must have fired this sarcasm. But really Eugenia was so -frightened she was beginning to like her better. It was human to be -frightened; she was terrified herself. But it would do no good to go -to pieces. - -Nona and Mildred were both ready. So the four girls went together into -the big saloon where all the other ship’s passengers were gathering. - -The fire was not supposed to be dangerous. The men were fighting it, -but they must wait to find out if it could be controlled. No, no one -had an idea of what had caused the explosion. - -Of course, a number of the women were crying and some of the men were -white as ghosts, others were laughing foolishly. - -Mrs. Curtis was distinguishing herself by having an attack of hysteria -in the arms of her son. Very quietly Mildred Thornton went up and took -hold of the older woman’s hand. - -“Let us find a seat somewhere and talk,” she said soothingly. But Mrs. -Curtis did not wait to be seated. - -“You see,” she sobbed, clutching Mildred’s arm, “the explosion occurred -right in our corridor. I was asleep when suddenly there was a dreadful -noise and my room filled with smoke. Brooks managed to get to me -the next instant. No one could have felt the shock as much as I did, -except Lady Dorian. Her room is across from mine and I believe she was -slightly injured. Has anyone seen her?” - -At this moment the second officer entered the saloon. His face was -white, but his lips wore a steady, automatic smile. - -“Captain Miller wishes me to inform you that there is no further -danger,” he shouted. “The ‘Philadelphia’ will continue her journey to -Liverpool. We have discovered the cause of the fire and the men have -smothered it. The passengers will kindly return to their staterooms and -breakfast will be served at as early an hour as possible.” - -At this moment Barbara Meade felt a light touch on her arm. Mildred was -over in a corner with Brooks Curtis and his mother; Eugenia was talking -to a number of equally excited strangers. So it was Nona Davis who said: - -“Don’t you think, Barbara, we might go and offer our services to Lady -Dorian? If she really is hurt, as Mrs. Curtis said, perhaps we may be -able to do something for her. In any case I feel we ought to show our -interest. She is not popular on board ship, and even if she resents our -coming I think we shall have done the kindest thing.” - -Barbara nodded her agreement, glancing admiringly at Nona Davis. Nona -was such an embodiment of refinement in manner and appearance that it -would be difficult to treat her ungraciously. - - - - -CHAPTER VII _The Landing_ - - -“It is too horrible and too absurd!” said Barbara, a little brokenly. - -The “Philadelphia” was now not far from Liverpool, proceeding with -infinite caution through the submarine and mine-haunted waters. In -great letters her name was painted on either side and never did the -Stars and Stripes float more conspicuously overhead. - -Dressed for the arrival in England, Barbara and Nona were standing side -by side at a little distance from their fellow passengers. Mildred was -seated with the newspaper correspondent and his mother, and Eugenia was -talking with a good deal of interest to the English banker. - -Nona did not answer the other girl’s speech immediately. She had -frowned, started to say something and then evidently changed her mind. -Both she and Barbara looked absurdly young and girlish for the work -ahead of them. Moreover, in their different ways they were typically -American, although their types were not the familiar ones known to most -Europeans. - -Barbara had the vivacity, the alertness and the “goaheadiveness” of the -western girl. And in spite of being only a miniature physical edition -of these traits of character she was not miniature in any other sense. -Nona was more difficult to explain. She appeared so exactly what she -had been brought up to be and yet she might surprise one by unexpected -characteristics. She was almost too refined in her manner and aspect; -it gave her a look of delicacy and diffidence. And in some ways Nona -was shy. Nevertheless, there was a possibility that she might have the -strength and mettle which one is supposed to find in a thoroughbred -horse. - -Finally she returned in her quiet drawl, which did not make her remark -less emphatic: - -“Don’t worry, Barbara dear, at least not more than you can help. It -has been dreadful to have Lady Dorian a prisoner for these last few -days, yet Captain Miller has been as polite as he could be under -the circumstances. You see, as soon as the men discovered that -the explosion on the ship had been intentional, there had to be a -scapegoat. And you know Lady Dorian _is_ mysterious. She won’t say what -her real name is and she won’t surrender the odd iron box of papers -that she is carrying with her. Besides, the accident did start either -inside or near her stateroom. The small safe which must have contained -the explosive was found not far away.” - -Nona paused. Though Barbara had listened politely enough she now -shrugged her shoulders, saying reproachfully, “Why, Nona, how odd you -are! Actually you talk as if you believed Lady Dorian guilty! Always -before you have been her staunchest champion. Besides, she seems to -have taken a great fancy to you. Now if Mildred had been speaking I -should have understood. She has been so influenced by Mrs. Curtis, or -by her son; but----” - -A peculiar expression crossed her companion’s face which at the -instant silenced Barbara. - -“Oh, no, I don’t think Lady Dorian guilty; the idea is ridiculous,” -Nona whispered. “So far as we have been able to judge, she is one of -the gentlest people in the world. The box of papers may prove that she -is sacrificing herself for her country in some strange way. She won’t -be able to keep them hidden once she lands. Captain Miller says that -they will have to be given up to the proper authorities. He did not -insist upon her relinquishing them upon his ship, because he had as -much as he could do to get us ashore in safety. Besides, Lady Dorian -is a woman. Captain Miller says an Irishman had best leave such a -situation alone. I am not sure he really suspects her.” - -At this moment, hearing footsteps near, Nona Davis turned from looking -out toward the sea. - -Approaching the place where they stood was the woman about whom they -had just been talking. She was dressed in dark-blue cloth with a small -hat of the same shade trimmed in a single darker feather. Behind her -came her maid carrying a long coat, and on either side of her were two -of the ship’s officers. They were entirely respectful, although never -getting any distance away. However, they need not have been fearful, -because the woman’s hands were locked together with a small steel chain. - -She seemed pale and ill and yet, oddly enough, neither frightened nor -ashamed. - -But the sight of her handcuffs had set Barbara’s cheeks flaming -indignantly. Yet they aroused an odd point of view. Could Nona be -right in her suggestion that people commit strange crimes in the name -of country in times of war, crimes from which their souls would have -shrunk in horror during peace? No, guilt of any kind was impossible to -imagine in connection with their new friend. In a sense Lady Dorian had -become their friend, since she and Nona had been helping to care for -her. Lady Dorian had been ill ever since the night of the explosion and -the accusation following upon it. - -However, while she had been thinking, Nona, who was usually slower in -her movements, had crossed over and slipped her arm inside the older -woman’s. - -They made a queer, effective picture standing together. Barbara was -conscious of it before joining them. - -They were both women of refinement, who looked as if they should be -sheltered from every adversity. Nona was dressed in shabby black, -since all the money she had was being devoted to her expenses. Lady -Dorian’s costume suggested wealth. Nona was delicately pretty, with -promise of beauty to come, while the older woman was at the zenith of -her loveliness. Nevertheless, something they had in common. Barbara’s -western common sense asserted itself. “Perhaps it is because they both -belong to ‘first families,’” she thought wickedly, and wondered if this -were a good or evil fortune. Certainly until she reached them, Nona and -Lady Dorian were as completely alone as if the ship’s deck had been a -desert island. - -Five minutes before several dozen persons had been loitering in the -neighborhood, impatiently watching and praying to be landed as soon as -possible. But as Lady Dorian advanced they had retreated. Perhaps they -had meant it kindly, for it is a painful shock to see a fellow being -a prisoner. Lady Dorian had been mistrusted, but she had not yet been -condemned. Suspicion is not evidence. - -However, the little group did not remain alone for long, for soon after -both girls beheld Eugenia Peabody walking resolutely toward them. She -happened to have been born a determined character, and her nursing had -developed rather than diminished her determination. - -Instantly Barbara and Nona became aware of Eugenia’s intention and -longed to frustrate it. But they both felt powerless, because Eugenia -did not speak or even look at them. Her dark eyes were leveled straight -at Lady Dorian. She appeared righteous and severe, but at the same time -impressive. - -Moreover, as soon as she began talking the older woman flushed and for -the first time the tears came into her eyes. - -“I don’t wish to be rude or unkind, Lady Dorian,” Eugenia remarked -stiffly, “but I do ask you to cease any suggestion of intimacy with -Miss Meade or Miss Davis. They have told you, of course, that we are -now on our way to nurse the wounded British soldiers. Well, I am -not for an instant accusing you of being a spy or having anything -to do with the accident aboard our steamer; nevertheless, you are -strongly suspected. Certainly you can see for yourself how young and -inexperienced Barbara Meade and Nona Davis both are. They are in my -charge and must not start their work of nursing under any cloud. By and -by if you are cleared and we should happen to meet again, why then of -course if you liked you could be friendly. Now----” - -Eugenia stopped, but there was no doubting what she meant. Although -Barbara and Nona were both furiously angry at her interference and -sorry for their new friend, nevertheless there was that tiresome -conviction they had so often felt since sailing--Eugenia, though -trying, was frequently right. - -Evidently Lady Dorian thought so too. Instinctively she lifted her -hands as though intending to offer one of them to Miss Peabody. But -finding this impossible she dropped her dark lashes to hide her emotion -and then answered as serenely as possible: - -“You are entirely right, Miss Peabody, and I am to blame for not having -thought before of what you have just said to me. Please believe that -I _did not think_. Miss Davis and Miss Meade have been very good to -me and their sympathy and care have helped me endure these last three -days. I don’t know many American girls, but not for a great deal would -I allow my acquaintance to make things difficult for them. It would be -a poor return. I shall be arrested as soon as we arrive in Liverpool, -so I think we had best say farewell at once.” - -Lady Dorian attempted no denial and no explanation. As she finished her -speech she glanced first at Nona and then at Barbara and let her eyes -say her farewells; then she stepped back a few feet nearer her guards. - -Deliberately Nona followed her. Apparently unconscious of the presence -of any one else she lifted up her face and touched her lips to the -older woman’s. - -“I believe in you implicitly,” she murmured. “Yes, I know there are -many things you do not wish to explain at present, and of course I -really know nothing in the world about you. Only I feel sure that we -shall some day meet again.” - -Nona’s faith proved unfortunate. For the first time Lady Dorian showed -signs of breaking down. But the next moment, smiling, she indicated a -curious scroll pin that was caught in the lace of her dress. - -“Will you take that, please,” she whispered, “and keep it until you -have better reason for your faith in me?” - -Following Eugenia, Barbara glanced curiously at Nona Davis. She was not -easy to comprehend. After all, she it was who had emphasized all the -reasons for doubting their new friend and then declared her belief in -her entire innocence. It was merely that her faith did not depend on -outward circumstances. Barbara wondered if she herself were equally as -convinced. Then her conflicting sensations annoyed her. As usual, she -began quarreling with Eugenia Peabody. - -“If you are taking us to join Mildred and the Curtis family, Eugenia, -then frankly I prefer other society. Nona and I had decided that we -wished to be by ourselves when we first see the coasts of England. But -so long as you feel you must be so terribly careful about chaperoning -us I would like to say that we know nothing about Brooks Curtis or Mrs. -Curtis except what they have told us, and Mildred Thornton has been -almost exclusively in their society for the past few days.” Barbara -tried to smile, but she looked very tiny and forlorn. She was homesick -and the parting with Lady Dorian had been disturbing. Besides, Mildred -was Dick Thornton’s sister and she had more or less promised Dick to -try and look after her. Could anything much more disastrous occur than -to have Mildred become interested in an unknown and presumably poor -newspaper reporter? Certainly Brooks Curtis showed no signs of being -either rich or famous in spite of his mother’s claims for him. Then the -thought of Mrs. Thornton’s anger made Barbara wish to sigh and smile at -the same time. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII _A Meeting_ - - -The four Red Cross girls were walking about in one of the most -beautiful gardens in England. It was late afternoon and they were -already dressed for dinner. - -The Countess of Sussex, to whom they had been introduced by her sister -in New York City, had invited them down from London for a few days -before leaving for their work among the soldiers. In another thirty-six -hours they were expecting to cross the Channel. - -Of the four girls, Nona Davis seemed most to have altered in her -appearance since leaving the ship. Indeed, no one could have dreamed -that she could suddenly have become so pretty. But she had been -half-way ill all the time of their crossing and disturbed about a -number of things. Here in England for some strange reason she felt -unexpectedly at home. The formality of the life on the great country -estate, the coldness and dignity of many of the persons to whom they -had been presented, the obsequiousness of the servants, troubled her -not at all. And this in spite of the fact that the other three girls, -although disguising the emotion as well as they knew how, were in a -state of being painfully critical of England and the English. Possibly -for this very reason Nona had made the best impression, although the -letters of introduction which they had so far used had been originally -given to Mildred Thornton. - -But in a way perhaps Nona was more like an English girl than the -others. She had lived the simplest kind of life in the beautiful old -southern city of Charleston, she and her father and one old colored -woman, almost lost in the big, shabby house that sheltered them. And -they had been tragically poor. Nevertheless, a generation before Nona’s -ancestors had been accustomed to an existence of much the same kind as -the English people about them, although a much more friendly one, with -negro servants taking the place of white and with a stronger bond of -affection than of caste. - -This afternoon Nona felt almost as if she were in her own rose garden -in Charleston, grown a hundred times larger and more beautiful. She -walked a little ahead of the other three girls, almost unconscious of -their presence and dreaming of her own shut-in childhood and the home -she had sold in order to give her services to the wounded in this war. - -Yet she looked as remote from the thought of war and its horrors as one -could possibly imagine. She had on a white muslin dress made with a -short waist and long full skirt; a piece of old lace belonging to her -father’s mother, an old-time Virginia belle, crossed over her slight -bosom, was fastened with a topaz and pearl pin. Her pale gold hair was -parted on one side and then coiled loosely on the crown of her head. -It did not curl in the wilful fashion that Barbara’s did, but seemed -to wave gently. Her pallor was less noticeable than usual and the -irises of her brown eyes were like the heart of the topaz. Then with -an instinct for color which every normal girl has, Nona had fastened a -golden rose, the _soleil d’or_, or sun of gold, at her waist. Because -it was cool she also wore a scarf floating from her shoulders. - -“Nona looks like this garden,” Barbara remarked to her two companions, -when they had stopped for a moment to examine a curiously trimmed box -hedge, cut to resemble a peacock, “while I--I feel exactly like a -cactus plant rooted out of a nice bare desert and transplanted in the -midst of all this finery. I can feel the prickly thorns sticking out -all over me. And if you don’t mind and no one is listening I’d like -to let the American eagle screech for a few moments. I never felt so -American in my life as I have every minute since we landed. And as we -have come to nurse the British I must get it out of my system somehow.” - -The two girls laughed, even Eugenia. Barbara had given such an amusing -description of herself and her own sensations. And she did not look -as if she belonged in her present environment, nevertheless, she was -wearing her best dress, made by quite a superior Lincoln, Nebraska, -dressmaker. It was of blue silk and white lace and yet somehow was not -correct, so that Barbara really did appear like the doll Dick Thornton -had once accused her of resembling. - -Mildred Thornton had a suitable and beautiful costume of pearl-gray -chiffon and Eugenia only a plain brown silk, neither new nor becoming. -But, as she had explained to their hostess, she had not come to Europe -with any thought of society, but merely in order to assist with the Red -Cross nursing. Eugenia seemed to be very poor; indeed, though only one -of the three other girls had any fortune, Eugenia’s poverty was more -apparent than Nona’s. All her traveling outfit was of the poorest and -she was painfully economical. But, as the Countess had declared that -they were leading the simplest kind of life in the country, and because -of the war doing almost no entertaining, Eugenia had consented to leave -their lodgings in London for this short visit. She was particularly -interested, since the smaller houses on the estate had been given over -to the Belgian refugees, and Eugenia felt that this might be their -opportunity for learning something of the war before actually beholding -it. - -The four girls were on their way now to visit several of the cottages -where the Belgian women and children were located. But when the three -girls had finished their few moments of conversation Nona Davis had -disappeared. - -“She will probably follow us a little later,” Eugenia suggested; “we -simply must not wait any longer, or dinner may be announced before we -can get back to the castle.” - -However, Nona did not follow them, although she soon became conscious -that the other girls had left her; indeed, saw them disappearing in the -distance. - -The truth is that at the present time she had no desire to see or talk -with the Belgian refugees, nor did she wish any other company than her -own for the next half hour. - -She had been so accustomed to being alone for a great part of her time -that the constant society of her new friends had tired her the least -bit. Oh, she liked them immensely. It was not that, only that some -natures require occasional solitude. And no one can be really lonely in -a garden. - -Had there been wounded Belgian soldiers on the Countess’ estate Nona -felt that she would have made the effort to meet them, but up to the -present she had not seen an injured soldier, although soldiers of the -other kind she had seen in great numbers, marching through the gray -streets of London, splendid, khaki-clad fellows, handsome and serious. -Even for them there had been no beating of drums, no waving of flags. -Nona was thinking of this now while half of her attention was being -bestowed on the beauties surrounding her. England was not making a game -or a gala occasion of her part in this great war; for her it was a -somber tragedy with no possible result save victory or death. - -During her divided thinking Nona had wandered into a portion of the -garden known as “The Maze.” It was formed of a great number of rose -trellises, the one overlapping the other until it was almost impossible -to tell where the one ended and the other began. Nona must have walked -inside for half an hour without the least desire to escape from her -perfumed bower. The scene about her seemed so incredibly different from -anything that she had the right to expect, she wished the impression to -sink deeply into her consciousness that she might remember it in the -more sorrowful days to come. - -Then unexpectedly the garden came to an end and the girl stepped -out onto a green lawn, with a small stone house near by which she -recognized as the gardener’s cottage. - -Between the garden and the house, however, prone on the ground and -asleep, lay a long figure. - -Nona caught her breath, first from surprise and next from pity. - -A heavy rug had been placed under the sleeper and a lighter one thrown -over him. Evidently he had been reading and afterwards had fallen -asleep, for magazines and papers were tumbled about and the cover -partly tossed off. - -At least, Nona could see that the figure was that of a young man of -about twenty-two or three and that he must recently have been seriously -ill. It was odd that under his tan his skin could yet manage to show so -pallid and be so tightly drawn over his rather prominent cheek bones -and nose. By his side were a pair of tall crutches and one of his long -legs was heavily bandaged. - -Nona was standing within a few feet of him, perfectly still, not daring -to move or speak for fear of waking him. Evidently the young man was -the gardener’s son who had come home on a leave of absence while -recovering from a wound. - -But the next instant and without stirring, his eyes had opened and were -gazing lazily into Nona’s. - -“It is the fairy story of the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ backwards,” he began, -without the least betrayal of amusement or surprise. “You see, our -positions really ought to be reversed. You should be sleeping here. -Then I should not in the least mind behaving as the Prince did when he -woke the lovely Princess. He kissed her, I believe.” - -Nona was startled and a little frightened. But one could not be -frightened of a boy who must have been terribly injured and was now -trying to fight his way back to life with what gayety he could. - -“Are you the gardener’s son?” she asked, a little after Eugenia’s -manner and really quite foreign to her own. She had never seen a young -man with such blue eyes as this one had, nor such queer brown hair that -seemed to have been burned to red in spots. - -“I am a son of Adam,” he answered, still grave as ever, “and he was, I -have been told, the earth’s _first_ gardener. Now tell me: Are you a -Princess?” - -The girl smiled a little more graciously. She had possessed very few -boy friends and certainly no one of them had ever talked to her in this -fashion. However, it was amusing and if it entertained the young fellow -there could be no harm in their talking. Nona Davis had the poise and -understanding that came of gentle birth. - -So she shook her golden head gravely. - -“I am not a Princess, I am sorry to spoil your fairy story. No, I am -just an American girl who has come over to try and be a little useful -with the Red Cross work. My friends and I met the Countess of Sussex -the other day and she was kind enough to ask us down to see her place -before we leave for the front.” - -During her speech the young man had been attempting to get himself -off the ground by rising on his elbow. But even with this movement he -must have wrenched his wounded leg, for immediately after he dropped -back again, and although suppressing a groan, Nona could see that -perspiration had broken out on his thin temples and on his smooth -boyish lips. - -The next instant she was down on her knees at his side. He had gotten -into an abominably awkward position so that his head hung over the -pillows instead of resting upon them. - -How often Nona had assisted her old father in a like difficulty! - -She may not have had the training of the other three American Red Cross -girls, but she had practical experience and the nursing instinct. - -With skill and with gentleness and without a word she now slipped her -bare white arm under the stranger’s shoulders and gradually drew him -back into a comfortable position. Then she took her arm away again, but -continued to kneel on the corner of his rug waiting to see if there -were to be any signs of faintness. - -There were none. Without appearing surprised or even thanking her, the -young Englishman continued his fantastic conversation. - -“We have turned American girls into Princesses in Europe quite an -extraordinary number of times. I have wondered sometimes how they liked -it, since I have been told they are all queens in their own land.” - -Then observing that his companion considered his remarks degenerating -into foolishness, he groped about until his hand touched the book he -desired. - -“Forgive my nonsense,” he urged penitently. “You can put it down to -the fact that I have actually been reading Andersen’s Fairy Tales half -the afternoon. I have grown so terribly bored with everything for the -past six weeks while I have been trying to get this confounded leg well -enough to go back and join my regiment.” - -He offered the little book to Nona, and almost instinctively, as the -wind scattered the pages, she glanced down upon the front leaf to -discover her companion’s name. There it was written in an unformed -handwriting. “Robert Hume, from Mother Susan.” - -“Robert Hume,” Nona repeated the name to herself mentally without -lifting her eyes. It was a fine name, and yet it had a kind of middle -class English sound like George Eliot, or Charles Dickens. Nona -realized that what is known in English society as the middle class had -produced most of England’s greatness. Nevertheless it was surprising to -find the son of a gardener possessed of so much intelligence. - -He even pretended not to have noticed that she had endeavored to -discover his name. - -She put the book on the ground and got up on her feet again. - -“I must go now,” she said gently, “but it is growing late. May I not -call some one to take you indoors?” - -“Please,” he answered, “if you will go there to the small stone house -and tell Mother Susan I am awake, she will have some one look after me. -But I say it _has been ripping_ meeting you in this unexpected way when -I thought I was too used up even to want to look at a girl. Tomorrow -perhaps----” - -“Tomorrow we are returning to London on the early morning train.” Nona -suffered a relapse into her former cold manner. She was a democrat, of -course, and came from a land which taught that all men were equal. But -she was a southern girl and the south had been living a good many years -on the thought of its old families after their wealth had been taken -away. Therefore, there were limits as to what degree of friendliness, -even of familiarity, one could endure from a gardener’s son. - -Nevertheless, the young fellow was a soldier and, one felt -instinctively, a gallant one. - -“Good-by; I hope you may soon be quite well again,” Nona added, and -then went across the grass to the gardener’s house. - -The young man was not accustomed to the poetic fancies that had been -besetting him this last quarter of an hour; they must be due to -weakness. But somehow the strange girl looked to him like a pale ray of -afternoon sunshine as he watched her disappear. She did not come near -his resting place again. - - - - -CHAPTER IX “_But Yet a Woman_” - - -Most of the next day the American Red Cross girls devoted to seeing -London. They had visited The Tower and Westminster Abbey and the Houses -of Parliament soon after their arrival. So, as the sun was shining with -unusual vigor for London, they concluded to spend the greater part of -their final time out of doors. - -London in late May or early June is a city transformed. During the -winter she is gray and cold and formidable, so that the ordinary -American traveler often finds himself antagonistic and depressed. Then -the Englishman appears as cold and unfriendly as his skies. But let the -sun shine and the flowers bloom in the parks and the spirit of the city -and its people changes. - -Naturally, on account of the shadow of the war, the Red Cross girls -had anticipated an atmosphere of sorrow and gloom over London. But -to their utter amazement on the surface of things there was no such -effect. There were, of course, many families in grief over the passing -of one of their dearest, or in even more tragic anxiety over the fate -of others either at the front or prisoners of war. But whatever the -private suffering, there was slight sign of it. No one was wearing -mourning, the theaters and restaurants seemed to be doing a good -business and the streets and parks were everywhere crowded. - -Except that the flags of the Allied Nations waved from nearly every -public building and large shop, and that the taxicabs carried placards -urging men to enlist, there was little to suggest a nation at war. - -Yes, there was one other curious sight which Barbara from the top of -an omnibus discovered. Over the roofs of the important government -buildings and above many of the great private houses hung a kind of -flat screen of heavy wire netting, closely woven. From a distance it -formed a cobweb effect, as though gigantic spiders had been spreading -their great webs over London. - -“I wonder what that means?” asked Barbara, pointing upward, and then -knew the answer, although she listened politely while Mildred explained. - -“Oh, the wire is to prevent bombs from dropping down on the house tops -when London has her great Zeppelin raid. Father began telling me that -London must expect them to occur as soon as the war broke out.” - -Nona, who had been looking pensive, now leaned over from the back seat -where she was sitting with Eugenia. - -“I am not wishing any harm to London; I adore it. But if the Germans -are going to send their marvelous army of the air to bombard the city, -don’t you wish it would happen while we are here?” - -Barbara laughed, Mildred shook her head and Eugenia said seriously: - -“Nona, you don’t look in the least like a bloodthirsty person. I can’t -understand you, child. You talk as if you had no sense of fear and I -have not been able to make up my mind whether it is because you know -nothing of danger or whether you are different from most women. But -remember that we are going to our work tomorrow, and I don’t think -there will be many of the horrors of this war that we shall miss -seeing. I am afraid I am a coward, for I dread a great part of them. -But isn’t that the hospital we are looking for? At least, it will be a -tremendous inspiration to meet the woman who has done more for nursing -among the British soldiers than any other woman in this war. Dr. -Garrett Anderson established the first woman’s hospital at Claridge’s -Hotel in Paris a month after the war broke out, together with Dr. Flora -Murray. And the women have done such wonderful surgical work that all -the country is talking about them.” - -Barbara whistled softly. “So they brought this Dr. Anderson back to -London and made her a major, the first woman ever given military rank -in the British Army!” she exclaimed. “When one considers the Englishman -believes ‘a woman’s place is the home,’ it is hard to tell how he is -going to reconcile what women are doing to help in this war, men’s work -as well as their own. But I’ll bet you the English won’t give the women -the vote when the war is over, just the same. They can go back home -then, although a good many of the poor things won’t have any homes to -go to.” - -Eugenia revealed an annoyed frown. She was doing her best to find good -in Barbara Meade, her New England conscience assured her there must be -good in everybody. But so far Barbara’s trying qualities were much more -conspicuous. - -“I do wish that you would not use slang, Barbara,” she urged almost -plaintively. “It may be all right in the west, but really it will give -English people such an unfortunate impression of us.” - -Barbara flushed. Of course she must break herself of this habit; -nevertheless, she would like to have mentioned that she had heard -a good deal of slang since arriving in England and although unlike -the American kind, equally amusing. However, as it was now time to -dismount from the top of their bus, this required all her energy and -intelligence. - -The meeting with Dr. Louise Garrett Anderson was necessarily brief, the -distinguished woman happening to have a single free hour had consented -to meet the new nurses and wish them God-speed. But the visit to the -hospital was also important, because the American Red Cross girls were -to have tea with the other nurses who were to accompany them across the -Channel the next morning. - -The new hospital just back of the British trenches at Neuve Chapelle -had sent a hurried call to London for more assistance and the four -American girls and four British girls were to make the journey -immediately. - -Crossing the hall to the dining room, Barbara just had time to whisper -to Mildred: - -“I have a dreadful premonition that I am not going to be popular with -English nurses. When you consider how ‘New England’ feels toward me, -what can you expect of England?” and Barbara made a wry face behind -Eugenia’s back, wishing for the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time in -her life that she only looked larger and older and more important. - -The meeting of the girls was not very successful. It may be that they -were all shy and that they really wished to be friendly without knowing -how to approach each other. But this certainly did not appear to be -true. For after they were properly introduced by the superintendent -of the hospital, the English girls nodded, said “how do you do?” and -then sat down again and continued talking to one another, as if the -Americans had vanished as soon as their names were spoken. - -It was embarrassing. Barbara was angry; nevertheless, her sense of -humor made her feel an inclination to giggle. Mildred Thornton seemed -distressed and awkward; one could tell from her expression that she -was once more feeling her old lack of social graces. She was under the -impression that it must be her duty to make things more comfortable -without in the least knowing how. Eugenia was simply returning a New -England manner to the land whence it came, while Nona Davis was frankly -puzzled by the situation. - -All her life she had been taught that one’s first duty was to make a -stranger feel welcome in one’s own land. The well-bred southern man -or woman will straightway cease to talk of his own affairs to become -interested in a newcomer’s. They wish to make the stranger happy and at -home and in the center of things. But this did not seem to be true of -this particular party of English girls. Nona wondered why they should -be so unlike the other English people they had been meeting. Perhaps -they were rude because they belonged to a class of society that knew -no better. You see, Nona’s feeling for “family” was very strong. She -was to learn better in the days to follow, learn that it is the man or -woman who counts, and not who his grandmother or grandfather chanced to -be; but the lesson was still before her. - -She was now studying the four other girls, too interested to be annoyed -by their manners, and yet conscious of the antagonism that they seemed -to feel. - -However, the four English girls were not in the least alike, which -was one reason for their attitude. Two of them appeared in awe of the -third, while the fourth girl silently watched the others. The most -important girl was extremely tall, had fair hair, a large nose and a -lovely English complexion. She was the Honorable Dorothy Mathers. The -second was the daughter of a farmer, healthy and in a way handsome. -If strength alone counted she would be the best of the nurses. Her -name was Mary Brinton and she spoke with a broad Yorkshire dialect, -but hardly said anything except “My Lady this, and my Lady that” and -was evidently not accustomed to titled society. The third girl was -from London, a doctor’s daughter and a friend of Lady Dorothy’s, Daisy -Redmond, while the fourth, whose name was Alexina McIntyre, had given -no clue to her history. - -However, she it was who finally forced the group of eight girls to -betray a mild human interest in one another. - -She had reddish hair, freckles on her nose, wore glasses, had a -delightful mouth, large, with fine white teeth. - -She happened to be gazing directly at Barbara when she first spoke, but -her voice was uncommonly loud, so that it forced everybody’s attention. - -“Please, you little wee thing,” she said, “tell us whatever made you -come over the ocean to help with our war nursing? Did you think we -hadn’t enough nurses of our own, that we needed babies like you?” - -Barbara stiffened. She had half an idea of declaring that she for one -intended going back home at once. Then to her relief she discovered -that her questioner had not intended being unkind. There was a sudden -twinkle in her light-blue eyes, as if she had become aware of the -discomfort in the atmosphere and wished to relieve it by a frivolous -speech. - -“I’m Scotch,” she added with a charming burr in her accent. “I said -that to wake you up.” - -Then Barbara smiled back again and afterwards sighed, “Oh, I am used to -having that remark made to me.” She looked steadfastly across the space -of carpet dividing the eight girls. “The sheep from the goats,” she -thought to herself. Aloud she merely said: - -“I hope with all my heart that in spite of my being so small you are -going to find me, and indeed all of us, useful. If you don’t, you know, -we can go back. But we used to have a saying in our hospital, out in -Nebraska, that sometimes brains succeed best in nursing as in other -things, rather than brawn.” - -Only the Scotch woman understood her meaning. However, the ice being -broken, afterwards there was an attempt at conversation, until finally -in desperation Eugenia gave the signal for farewells. - -“We shall meet again in the morning,” she said at parting, but showing -no enthusiasm at the prospect. - -“I am sorry,” Mildred Thornton remarked, once the four girls were back -again in their lodgings, “but I am afraid for some reason the girls we -have just met feel a prejudice against our nursing in the same hospital -with them. I wonder what they could have heard against us? Everyone -else has been so grateful and kind. I hope they won’t make the work -harder for us. All of us except Eugenia are inexperienced.” - -Eugenia nodded her head in agreement. “I am afraid the girl they called -Lady Dorothy did not seem to favor us. It is a pity, because she is -related to a great many important people, I’m told. But never mind, -even if she does dislike us, she can’t interfere with our doing good -work.” - -Curled up on the bed, Barbara yawned. “Oh, don’t let us look for -trouble. One of the things we have got to expect is that some of the -English nurses won’t like our American ways or our methods of nursing. -We have just to remember that we came over here to preach the gospel -of peace, not war, and not dislike anyone. Well, our real life work -begins tomorrow. Then we will see what stuff we are made of. I am glad -our hospital is partly supported by American money and that Mrs. Payne -of New York is sometimes in charge of things. I haven’t yet become an -Anglomaniac; so far I only love the soldiers.” - -The next morning the trip to the coast followed, and thence across the -Channel the way was strangely uneventful. Except that the four American -girls now wore their Red Cross costumes, they might have been taken for -four girls on a spring shopping journey to Paris. The Channel boats -were crossing and recrossing from England to France and back again just -as if they had no enemies in the world. - -However, the men guiding the destinies of the little steamers were -under no such impression. Every foot of the way was traveled with -infinite caution. For at any moment disaster might overtake them from -the sea or air. But there was no German bomb to destroy the shimmering -gold of the atmosphere this May morning, nor dangers in the pathway -through the sea. Moreover, from tall towers along both coasts farseeing -eyes were watching and protecting the passage of the Channel boats. -This morning some of them were carrying passengers across, others -khaki-clad soldiers to relieve their wounded comrades. - -One surprise, however, awaited the American girls. Quite unexpectedly -they discovered that Mrs. Curtis and her son were also crossing the -Channel to France on their boat. And Mrs. Curtis reported that Lady -Dorian had been taken to The Tower in London where she was being held -as a political spy. - - - - -CHAPTER X _Behind the Firing Lines_ - - -It was about seven o’clock in the morning ten days later. - -Over green fields the sun was shining and the birds were singing in the -tops of the tall chestnut trees which were now covered with fragrant -blossoms. These trees stood close about an old mansion which was -enclosed by a high stone wall with no opening save a tall iron gate -connecting with the avenue that led in a straight line to the house. -But although there was a small lodge beside it, the gate stood open. - -The old stone house itself was strangely built. It had three towers, -one taller than the rest, commanding a sweeping view of the country -near by. At one side of the building an old stone cloister led to a -small chapel a few hundred yards away. And this morning two girls were -walking quietly up and down this cloister in uniforms not strikingly -unlike those that used long ago to be worn by the young demoiselles of -the ancient “Convent of the Sacred Heart” in northern France. But these -two modern girls belonged to a newer and braver sisterhood, the order -of the Red Cross. - -They were Barbara Meade and Nona Davis, but their faces suggested -that years, not days, must have passed over them. Their cheeks were -white, their expressions strained. From Barbara’s eyes and mouth the -suggestion of sudden, spontaneous laughter had disappeared. She looked -a little sick and a little frightened. - -Nona was different, although she suggested a piece of marble. The -experiences of the past ten days had brought out the fighting qualities -in this young southern girl. Her golden-brown eyes were steady, she -carried her chin up and her shoulders straight. She looked the daughter -of a soldier. - -Now she put her arm across the smaller girl’s shoulder. - -“Let us go for a walk,” she suggested. “No one in the hospital wants -our services for a while and breakfast won’t be served for another -hour. It will do you good to get away from the thought of suffering. We -need not go far; besides, the country near here is entirely peaceful.” - -Barbara said nothing in reply, but taking her consent for granted, the -two girls left the cloister and went down the avenue to the open gate -and so out into the countryside. - -They did not seem to feel like talking a great deal; the endless -chatter that had kept them busy during the trip across had died away. -But the morning was lovely and the countryside so peaceful that the -thought of the scene of battle not far off seemed almost incredible. -They were in the midst of a meadow and orchard country of rolling -level fields. Beyond them, however, was a line of hills and a forest. -But there were no other large houses near, only some small cottages -at the edges of the meadows. These belonged to the French peasants, -and although the men were now in the trenches, still they appeared -thrifty and well kept. For so far, though the enemy watched so near, -this part of the country had escaped the actual warfare. The hospital -was only a bare five miles from the British line of soldiers, yet was -comparatively safe. And for this reason the famous old French school -had been emptied of its pupils and turned over to the Red Cross. - -As they left the big gate Nona glanced behind her. From the top of -the tallest tower floated a white flag, the emblem of peace, and yet -bearing upon it a cross of red, symbol of suffering. Then just for -an instant the thought crossed her mind, Would this flag continue to -protect them throughout the war? - -But as there was no possible answer to this question she turned once -more to the idea of diverting her companion. - -Barbara did not seem to be noticing anything. She was downcast and -wandered along with her eyes fixed upon the ground. - -“I do not think you ought to worry so or take your breakdown so -seriously, Barbara,” Nona began. “Why, it might have happened to any -one in the world and only shows how keenly you feel things. Next time -you will be better prepared.” - -But the other girl shook her head. “I had no right to come to Europe -to help with the Red Cross nursing if I haven’t nerve enough not to -flunk. Think of it, Nona, the very first time I was called upon to give -assistance of real importance, to faint!” The girl’s voice expressed -the limit of self-contempt. “And this when Eugenia and Lady Mathers -were the two other nurses. I would almost rather have died than have -had it happen. I believe Eugenia had to stop and drag me out of the -surgeon’s way. But she has been very kind since, and after all my brave -talk on the steamer has not yet mentioned my downfall. I suppose I -ought to go home and carry out my threat.” - -The tears were sliding down Barbara’s cheeks, but in spite of this Nona -smiled. - -“You are the last person in the world to play quitter,” she returned -quietly. “Now look here, Barbara, you and I know that since we arrived -at the hospital we have both been feeling that perhaps we were not -wanted and that all our efforts and dreams of helping are going to -amount to little.” She stopped and for a moment laid both hands on her -friend’s shoulders. “Well, let’s you and I show people differently. -I haven’t had much experience and so I am perfectly willing to help -in any way I can be useful until I learn more. You know you went to -pieces the other day, not because you did not have courage to help, but -because you have been seeing so many horrors all at once and you have -not yet gotten used to them. That poor fellow----” - -But Barbara’s eyes were imploring her friend to silence. “Let’s don’t -talk about him any more,” she begged. “I was used up, there had been -so many others and then this soldier somehow reminded me of some one I -knew.” - -Barbara drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. It may be that -the thought of the some one had given her new resolution. “Of course, -you know I mean to keep on trying,” she added finally. - -Then taking off her nurse’s cap and flinging back her head, the girl -called to Nona, “Catch up with me if you like; I am going to run. It -always makes me feel better when I’ve been having the blues.” And the -next instant she had turned off from the road along which they had been -walking and was flying across one of the meadows as swiftly as a child -chasing butterflies. - -Just at first Nona attempted running after her. She too wanted to feel -the blood racing in her veins and the wind fanning her cheeks. But her -companion’s flight was too swift. Nona slowed down and followed more -quietly. - -What an odd girl Barbara Meade was and what a queer combination of -childishness and cleverness! Assuredly she had not succeeded in making -herself popular at the hospital to which they had lately come. Probably -Nona understood more of the situation than Barbara. Already for some -reason there had been talk of asking the younger girl to go back to -London, if not to her own home. Nona wondered if this were due to -Barbara’s appearance or her manner. Surely her single failure should -not have counted so seriously against her, unless there were other -reasons. Nevertheless, she herself believed in her and meant to stand -by until Barbara had her chance. - -Barbara had ceased running now, and as Nona approached her dropped down -on her knees. She had come to the end of the meadow down the slope of a -hill and everywhere around the earth was covered with violets. - -In a few moments her hands were full of them. “We will take these back -to the hospital,” she said as cheerfully as though she never had a -moment of depression. “I have promised to read to two of the soldiers -who are better. They say it amuses them, I have such a funny American -voice.” - -The next minute she was up and off again, this time with her arm linked -inside Nona’s. “There is such a dear little French house over there. -Let’s go and see who lives in it now that we are so near.” - -Nona glanced at her watch. It was a man’s watch and had once belonged -to her father. - -“I have a delightful scheme. It isn’t yet eight o’clock and neither -you nor I have to go on duty until ten. Ever since we arrived I have -wanted to see inside one of these little French huts. So if the people -who live in this one are friendly let’s ask them to give us coffee and -rolls. I can talk to them in French and explain where we come from, -then later perhaps we can walk on a little further.” - -The girls were now within ten yards of the cottage. No one was -outdoors, yet there were noises on the inside and through the one -small stone chimney the smoke poured out into the air, bringing with -it a delicious odor of coffee. Nevertheless, the two girls hesitated. -They had been told that the French peasants were always courteous to -strangers, and yet it might be difficult to explain their errand. - -But they were spared the trouble, for at this instant the heavy wooden -door was pushed open and a woman stepped out into the yard. - -But after the first glance the two girls stared, not at the woman, but -at each other. - -“It can’t be,” Barbara murmured weakly. “I am not seeing things -straight.” - -“Unfortunately, I’m afraid you are,” Nona answered, and keeping tight -hold of Barbara drew her forward. - -“Good morning, Mrs. Curtis,” she exclaimed. “I was under the impression -that you were in Paris. It seems more than strange for us to run across -each other again and you so near the hospital where we have been -located.” - -At Nona’s words Mrs. Curtis at once came forward and held out both -hands. She was wearing a kimono and did not look attractive, but she -smiled so kindly that at least Barbara relented. - -“I don’t wonder at your surprise,” she returned immediately. “Only I -happen to have the advantage of already knowing what had become of you -four girls. But my being near is not so strange as you may think. I -told you my son wanted to see what is taking place inside the British -trenches. We had to go to Paris for certain papers we could not get -in London. But the firing line at present is only a few miles from -here, as you know. So, as I wanted to be reasonably near and still -in no danger, my son and I looked about to find some place where I -could live. There is only an old woman here and a half-witted son. The -father and sons are at the front, of course. But I don’t mind being -uncomfortable, and then knowing the hospital was so near was such a -comfort both to my son and me.” - -Mrs. Curtis had not ceased talking an instant and seemed to expect no -reply. “Won’t you come in and have coffee with me now?” she urged. -“The house is clean as a pin and I’ve a letter from my son to Mildred -Thornton I should be so much obliged if you would take to her. I was -going to walk over with it myself some time today, but I did not know -whether an outsider would be allowed to enter the hospital. One can’t -guess what the restrictions may be in these war times.” - -She led the way and both girls followed, Barbara because she very much -wanted the coffee and to see inside the little French house. She was -annoyed at the thought of Brooks Curtis writing to Mildred so soon, -but it was scarcely any business of hers. In any case, she did not see -how she could prevent it, since Mrs. Curtis would undoubtedly deliver -her son’s letter unless one of them did. - -Nona, however, had no such feeling. She simply had a half-conscious -prejudice against breaking bread with a woman whom she neither liked -nor trusted. But then she had no real reason for her point of view and -had promised herself to rise above it. - -Of course, it might be only a coincidence, Mrs. Curtis’ evident -intention to attach herself to them. But after all, what possible -reason could she have except the desire for a little friendly intimacy? -Naturally she must be lonely with her son away on his newspaper work. - - - - -CHAPTER XI _Out of a Clear Sky_ - - -The girls remained longer than they expected in the little hut. It was -extraordinarily interesting, with a thriftiness and tidiness that were -characteristically French. Indeed, living seemed to have been reduced -to the simplest conditions. - -One big room formed the center of the hut. It had a stone floor and -a big fireplace where the food was cooked over a peat fire. A plain -wooden table and some benches were the only furniture, except two tall -and strangely handsome chairs, which must have been the property of -some old French family. They had drifted into the cottage by mistake, -probably as a gift to an old servant. - -On the walls of the room hung a gun of a pattern of the Franco-Prussian -war, a cheap lithograph of President Poincairé, and one of General -Joffre and General French. So this little hut was also filled with the -war spirit. But the old French _mère_ explained that her husband and -four sons were in the battle line, so few persons had a greater right -to a display of patriotism. - -The two American girls found the old French woman one of the most -picturesque figures they had ever imagined. She wore a bodice and short -blue cotton skirt and a cap with pointed ends. Her shoes were wooden -and her stockings homespun. Although only between fifty and sixty years -old, her visitors were under the impression that Mère Marie must be -at least seventy except for her vigor. For her shoulders were bent -and her tanned cheeks wrinkled into a criss-cross of lines. Only her -black eyes shone keenly above a high arched nose, and she moved with a -sprightliness any young person might envy. - -Then too she was agreeably hospitable to her unexpected guests, though -not communicative. She did not appear to wish to talk about her own -affairs. - -But although the old woman was so interesting, her son Anton was a -dreadful person of whom the two visitors felt a little afraid. He was -almost uncanny, like a character you may have seen in a play, or read -of in some fantastic book. His coarse black hair hung down to his -shoulders and was chopped off at the end in an uneven fashion, his eyes -were black and stared, but with a peculiar blank look in them, and -his big mouth hung open showing huge yellow teeth. One of the unhappy -things about the boy was that he looked so like the woman who was his -mother and yet so horribly unlike her because there was no intelligence -behind the mask of his face. He did not look brutish, however, only -vacant and foolish, and sat in the corner mumbling to himself while -Nona and Barbara and Mrs. Curtis had their coffee and rolls. - -But once the two girls were away from the little house, Barbara, -glancing behind, saw the boy following them. First she shook her head -at him, pointing toward his own home, then she brandished a stick. The -lad only grinned and kept after them. - -The girls had not yet started back to the hospital, as they had more -than an hour before them and the morning was too beautiful to be wasted. - -“We have got to get rid of that boy somehow, Nona; he gives me the -creeps,” Barbara suggested. “Suppose we slip out of this field, which -may belong to them, and go down to the foot of that little hill. There -is an orchard on the other side of the wall and we can stay there under -the trees until we must go back to work. Hope no one will think it -wrong, our having wandered off in this fashion! The truth is they will -probably be too busy to miss us. At least, I am glad that Mildred and -Eugenia are being so successful. They may save the day for the United -States until our chance comes.” - -The two girls then sat down in the grass under an old French apple -tree, which looked very like one of any other nationality, but was the -more romantic for being French. This country of northern France ravaged -by mad armies is an orchard and vineyard land and one of the fairest -places on earth. - -Looking up into the clear sky, Nona spoke first. - -“It is as though the war were a horrible nightmare, isn’t it?” she -began, leaning her chin on her hand and gazing out over the country. -“But do you know, Barbara, dreadful as you may think it of me, I am -not content to stay on here in the shelter of the hospital, hard and -sad as the work of caring for the wounded is. I feel I must know what -the battlefield is like, smell the smoke, see the trenches. Often I -think I can hear the booming of the great guns, see the wounded alone -and needing help before help can come. I am going over there some day, -though I don’t know just how or when I can manage it.” - -The girl’s face was quiet and determined. She was not excited; it was -as if she felt a more definite work calling her and wished to answer it. - -Then Nona quieted down, and without replying Barbara lay resting her -head in the older girl’s lap. There was a growing sympathy between -them, although so unlike. - -Barbara’s blue eyes were upturned toward the clear sky when suddenly -her companion felt her body stiffen. For an instant she lay rigid, the -next she pointed upward. - -“Nona,” she exclaimed in a stifled voice, “it doesn’t seem possible, -but--well, what is that in the sky over there? Perhaps we are not so -far from the fighting as you believe.” - -Nona followed the other girl’s gaze, but perhaps she was less -far-sighted and her golden brown eyes had not the vision of her -friend’s blue ones. - -“Why, dear, I only see two small black clouds.” Then she laughed. “We -are talking like Sister Anne and Bluebeard’s wife. Remember Sister -Anne’s speech. ‘I can only behold a cloud of dust arising in the -distance.’” And Nona made a screen of her hand, laughingly placing it -over her eyes. - -But Barbara jumped to her feet. “Don’t be a goose, Nona. Look, I am in -earnest. Those are not clouds, they are aeroplanes and I believe they -are trying to destroy each other.” - -But there was no need now for Barbara to argue; the situation was -explaining itself. - -Even in this brief moment of time the two air-craft had come closer, -the one plainly in pursuit of the other. But they made no direct -flight. Now and then they both hung poised in the air, then they darted -at each other, or one plunged toward the earth and the other soared -higher. - -“One of them must be a German scout trying to locate the enemy’s -position near here,” Barbara remarked. She herself a few weeks before -would not have believed that she could have seen such a spectacle as -the present one without being overpowered with alarm and excitement. -But war brings strange changes in one’s personality. Both girls were -entranced, awed, but above all profoundly interested. They had not yet -thought of fear for themselves nor for the men who must be guiding the -destinies of the ill-omened birds now driving nearer and nearer toward -them. But for the moment one could not associate human beings with -these winged creatures; they were too swift and terrible. - -The German plane was evidently the larger and heavier of the two. - -It could escape only by disabling the other craft, but the smaller one -would not remain long enough in one position to have the other’s guns -turned upon it. - -Now and then there were reports of explosions in the air above them. -Nona and Barbara expected to see one or the other of the two machines -disabled, but somehow the shots missed their aim. - -Barbara had a sudden remembrance of having once seen a fish-hawk chased -by a kingfisher. The resemblance was strange. Here was the great bird, -powerful and evil, moving heavily through the air, while the smaller -one darted at it, now forward, now backward, then to the side, causing -it endless annoyance, even terror. Yet the larger bird could not move -swiftly enough to be avenged. - -Once the two planes circled almost out of sight and unconsciously -the two watchers sighed, partly from relief, although there was a -measure of disappointment. For whatever terror the spectacle held -was overbalanced with wonder. Moreover, by this time they were both -becoming exhausted. Nona started to sit down again to rest her eyes for -a moment. - -The next instant Barbara clutched her. Back into their near horizon -the fighting air-craft reappeared, and now it was plain enough that -the larger was swaying uncertainly. The smaller aeroplane made a final -dash toward it, another report sounded, then a white flash appeared and -afterwards a cloud of heavy yellow smoke. Away from the smoke, still -lumbering uncertainly but keeping a course in the desired direction, -the big Taube machine was sailing out of sight. For a few moments -longer the smaller aeroplane hung suspended, although it was impossible -to see more than the outline of its great white wings through the thick -vapor surrounding it. - -Then the wings began to waver and the aeroplane to descend toward the -earth. - -Instinctively, with almost the same emotion that a child feels in -reaching the scene of a falling balloon, Nona and Barbara ran forward. -Unless its course changed the aeroplane must fall in a field not more -than two hundred yards away. - -But the atmosphere about them, which a short while before had been -clear and fragrant, was now growing stifling, and blowing about them -was a yellow cloud. - -With a suffocating sensation Nona put up her hand to her throat. What -could be the trouble with her? She could see Barbara running on ahead, -and the great ship fluttering downward, leaving much of the cloud of -smoke dissolving behind it. Once she tried to call to her companion, -but the feeling of choking was too painful. It would make no difference -if she should sit down for a few moments. If there were any service to -be done a little later when this curious sensation had passed she could -go on. - -But whatever the poisonous air that had suddenly come out of the blue -heavens the fumes grew thicker on the ground. No sooner had she sat -down than Nona dropped backward, her mouth opening slightly and her -face turning a queer dark color. - -Nevertheless Barbara kept on. From the beginning she had been slightly -in advance of Nona and running more quickly. She had been conscious -of the sudden thickening of the atmosphere, but had put up her hand, -covering her nose and mouth and so had gotten away from the fumes. -Moreover, she had not become aware that Nona was not following. -Naturally the sight ahead held her mind and eyes. - -The airship as it drew nearer the earth seemed to hold its wings -outspread, quiet as a weary bird settling to rest. The machinery did -not appear to have been seriously wrecked by whatever bomb its enemy -had finally used. Barbara could by this time plainly see a man still -seated at his post, his hand holding his steering gear. Yet the man -looked not like a man so much as a wooden image and seemed unaware of -what he was doing. The instant his machine touched the earth he fell -forward face downward, rolled over a little when one of the giant wings -of his air-craft partly covered him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII _First Aid_ - - -As soon as Barbara reached the scene of the wreck she turned to seek -Nona’s advice and aid. But to her amazement there was no evidence of -her companion. Stupidly she continued to stare. It was impossible to -conceive what could have become of Nona, yet the last quarter of an -hour had been so full of strange happenings that there was small wonder -at Barbara’s bewilderment. - -A moment later, a few yards from where they had first begun to run, she -saw Nona’s figure lying in a crumpled heap upon the ground. Yet was it -imaginable that this could be Nona? Had she fainted or stumbled? The -recollection of the suffocating gas about them really did not occur to -Barbara, as she had felt its effects so slightly. - -Yet here she stood torn between two duties. Should she return and find -out what had happened to her friend or try first to release the man? - -Barbara suffered only a brief indecision. Though she may have failed -in her first week’s work at the hospital, her training as a nurse now -asserted itself. And one of the supreme requisites of the successful -nurse is that she use her judgment without unnecessary delay. - -Straightway Barbara attempted dragging the unconscious man from his -seat in the wrecked aeroplane, it being, of course, out of the question -to move the machine itself. But the body felt as heavy and inert as if -there were no life inside. Still she tugged, and though so miniature -a person her muscles and nerves were for the time at least strong and -steady. - -The man was tall, an Englishman Barbara guessed him to be, but happily -he was thin. Many months devoted to war’s service leaves little flesh -upon a soldier, and these modern soldiers of the air bear perhaps the -most terrific strain of all. - -But once the man’s head was in the open air Barbara knelt beside him. -So far as she could discover he did not appear to be wounded; there -was no blood upon him anywhere. Holding her smelling salts under his -nose, he showed no sign of consciousness. Then she worked his arms back -and forth, so as to stimulate the action of the heart, used every first -aid method that her three years of study had taught her. This case was -unlike any she had ever known. As she worked an idea came to Barbara. -Once she recalled a man having been brought into the hospital overcome -by the fumes of gas. Such a possibility was absurd with this case and -yet the face had the same dark, frightful look. - -Nevertheless, Barbara Meade was not in the least hopeless, nor did she -for an instant cease to work, though now and then she was forced to -glance toward the spot where Nona remained so quiet. What could be the -matter? Why did she not come to her aid? - -All this, of course, took place in a very few minutes. A little later -when Barbara gave another frightened look across the fields, she -discovered that Nona had gotten up and was walking toward her. She -seemed dizzy and uncertain, but there was evidently nothing serious the -matter. - -Moreover, there was no time for inquiries, for just as Nona reached -her, Barbara’s patient stirred, coughed and struggled to regain his -breath. Then for the first time the nurse put her arm about her friend. -The air would do more for the stupefied man than she could. - -Soon after he opened his eyes and in an incredibly short time pulled -himself out from beneath his aeroplane. He then stared in a dazed -half-blind fashion at the two girls standing near him in nurses’ -uniforms, in the center of a ploughed field. - -But war admits of no surprises. Only the two American Red Cross girls -had not yet grown accustomed to the possible strangeness of their -adventures. Moreover, they were frightened at the appearance of their -first hero. He was not in the least what one would expect an aviator to -be. This man was not young according to Nona’s or Barbara’s ideas. He -must have been about thirty, his hair and eyes were dark and the lines -of his face stern and severe. His skin was now a queer mottled color, -with ugly blue splotches. - -However, he began struggling to speak. But his tongue was so swollen -that he choked and coughed, neither did he seem able to see clearly. - -Meanwhile Nona Davis, although considerably less affected, was also -plainly not herself. She too coughed uncomfortably and seemed weak -and stupid. She expressed no surprise over what had just taken place -and offered her friend neither advice nor assistance. But Barbara had -already made up her mind. They must get back to the hospital and as -soon as possible. Yet her patient could not walk, Nona could not help, -and Barbara did not wish to leave them while she went for assistance. - -Fortunately, however, in looking about she discovered that Anton, the -boy whom they had been endeavoring to escape, had been attracted by the -vision in the air. Or if he had not seen it, he was now plainly visible -not far away, staring in a bold, half-terrified fashion at the scene, -which was past his understanding. - -Barbara summoned him imperatively. - -Between them they then managed to get the air man clear of his machine. -As soon as he was on his feet, with Anton’s and Barbara’s arms grasping -his, he stumbled on for a few steps. Afterwards he found himself better -able to walk. - -“Extraordinary thing,” he began, and Barbara immediately thought -his words and manner so intensely English that she wanted to laugh. -Would any American man under the same circumstances remain so coldly -dignified and superior as this one appeared? - -“I am not in the least hurt, you know, only confoundedly weak and -suffocated,” he said finally. “New trick, that of our enemy’s; they -have been using their asphyxiating gas on our soldiers in the trenches, -but this is the first time a gas bomb has been thrown from a Taube -aeroplane. Lucky thing for me the gas was too heavy to stay long in the -upper air.” - -This speech was made thickly and with a great deal of effort, but both -Nona and Barbara were able to understand. They knew, of course, of -the use of the chlorine missiles, Germany’s novel weapon of war, which -had lately been thrown into the trenches of the Allies. The papers had -been full of the mysterious effects the gas had upon the soldiers. How -stupid not to have dreamed of this! Of course, the situation was now -explained, even Nona’s odd share in it. Evidently the poisonous gas -which they had seen in a greenish yellow cloud encircling the aeroplane -had fallen to earth and Nona had been wrapped in its fumes. But it had -been too diluted with air to have done her serious harm, and after her -fall a favoring wind must have blown it away. - -By the time the second field was reached Nona was herself again. -Indeed, it was she who decided to hurry on to the hospital and send -back aid. They were finding the way too long for the still stupefied -man, who could only see dimly and was still suffering as if he had been -recently paralyzed. - -The two nurses had been missed at the hospital and Nona felt the -atmosphere of disfavor as she entered the great stone house. - -Fortunately, however, she found their Scotch friend, Alexina McIntyre, -waiting in the hall for the arrival of a fresh ambulance of the -wounded. The ambulances brought the men from the battle front to this -hospital only a few miles away. A few moments later help was dispatched -to Barbara. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII _The Summons_ - - -A few days after Eugenia Peabody opened the door of one of the rooms -on the top floor used for the nurses. It was a small room which -fortunately the four American Red Cross girls were allowed to share -without any of the other nurses. Simple as possible, it contained four -cot beds, a single bureau, and a great old-fashioned wardrobe. Convents -in France were built long before the days of closets. - -Eugenia, looking very exhausted, was like most tired persons, cross, -when she discovered Nona and Barbara lying on opposite beds peacefully -talking. - -However, both girls got up instantly. - -“Do try and rest a while, Eugenia,” Barbara urged. “You seem dreadfully -worn out. Isn’t there anything I can do to help you?” - -Eugenia dropped down upon the nearest wooden chair shaking her -head. And in spite of her weariness the two other girls watched her -admiringly. One had to see Eugenia in her nurse’s costume to realize -what a handsome, almost noble looking girl she was. Her ordinary -clothes were so shabby and unbecoming and so old style. But the stiff -white cap outlined her broad forehead, her somber dark eyes. Even her -too serious and sometimes too severe expression seemed in a measure -fitted to the responsibility of her work. - -“You are wanted downstairs in the convalescent ward, Nona,” she began. -“The Superintendent says she finds the things you are able to do very -useful, even though you are not trained for the more responsible -nursing. But before you go here is a letter that has come from London -for you. Who can you know in London, child, to be writing you here?” - -Nona was moving toward the door, but she paused long enough to receive -her letter and then to stand staring in the stupid fashion people have -at the unfamiliar handwriting on the outside. - -“I haven’t the faintest idea,” she answered Eugenia, but tearing apart -the envelope she suddenly flushed. - -“The letter is from Lady Dorian, Eugenia. Remember we met her on the -steamer where she was accused of all kinds of dreadful things. She -has been imprisoned in London, but this letter must mean that she is -free. Anyhow, I’ll tell you what she writes when I come back. I am -on duty now and haven’t time to wait and read it.” This was entirely -true. Nevertheless Nona had other reasons for wishing to read her -letter alone. Lady Dorian had made a strange impression upon her for so -short an acquaintance. She had scarcely confessed it even to herself, -but she felt a girl’s peculiar hero worship for the older woman. -Moreover, she was passionately convinced of her innocence and yet did -not wish Barbara or Eugenia to know at once what must be told them -afterwards. For Lady Dorian could only have written either to say she -had been released or to ask aid. There had been no suggestion of their -exchanging letters in their brief acquaintance. - -Once Nona was out of the room Barbara inquired: - -“What has become of Mildred? Isn’t this her afternoon to rest? Nona and -I were expecting her in here.” - -The older girl did not answer; she had gotten up and in spite of her -fatigue was walking about the small room. She stopped now and looked -out of the tiny casement window. - -“Oh, Mildred,” she returned carelessly, “has gone to spend the -afternoon with that Mrs. Curtis. They are to take a walk somewhere, I -think. Mildred said she felt the need of fresh air. I believe Mildred -is missing her family more than she likes to confess and this Mrs. -Curtis is so kind, Mildred seems pleased to find her living so near us.” - -On her small cot bed Barbara had managed to get herself into an -extraordinary position. She had on her kimono and sat hunched up with -her knees in the air and her arms about them while her curly head -bobbed up and down like a Chinese mandarin’s. - -“Sorry,” she commented briefly. “I told you on the ship I was afraid -Mildred was becoming interested in Brooks Curtis. I don’t like Mrs. -Curtis locating so near the hospital. Don’t see any reason for it -except that she and her son do not want to lose sight of Mildred. And -it would not surprise me if her son turned up in this neighborhood -himself fairly often--oh, to see his mother, of course.” - -Barbara spoke petulantly, particularly when she discovered that Eugenia -was paying scant attention to her remarks. - -“Oh, do come on and lie down a while, Eugenia,” she concluded. “You -behave as if all the Allied forces would go to pieces if you stayed off -your job an hour, or at least as if all the soldiers in the hospital -would die at once.” - -Still Eugenia made no reply. Although getting out of her working -uniform, she too slipped into a comfortable negligée and letting down -her heavy dark hair followed Barbara’s rather ungraciously offered -advice. - -A few minutes later the younger girl stood at the side of her bed with -a cup of beef tea in her hands which she had just made over a tiny -alcohol lamp. - -“Drink this, please, and forgive my bad temper, Eugenia,” she murmured. -“I presume if I confessed the truth even to myself, I am jealous of -your success at the hospital. But honestly I don’t think I am being -given a fair chance here. Ever since we arrived I have been shoved into -the background and never called on for any really important work. Oh, I -know I failed that one time, but that is no reason why I shouldn’t be -all right the next.” - -While the older girl finished the bouillon Barbara sat down on the side -of the bed. Then the moment the cup had been set down, to her surprise -Eugenia took hold of her hand almost affectionately. - -“You are going to be given a chance, Barbara, at least one that will -take a whole lot of courage. It is what I came upstairs to tell you and -Nona, and what I have been feeling so worried about. For really I don’t -know whether you ought to agree. You are both so young and pretty.” -Eugenia hesitated and Barbara took hold of both her shoulders, giving -her a tiny shake. - -“What do you mean? I hate suspense worse than anything.” - -“Oh, simply that four girls have to be appointed for service in the two -new motor ambulances that are to bring the wounded soldiers from the -battle front to the hospital. The Superintendent has decided to ask you -and Nona to take charge of one and Lady Mathers and Daisy Redmond the -other. Of course, you can refuse if you like, Barbara, for the work -may be dangerous. It isn’t that you will have to do very much for the -soldiers except to see that they are properly bandaged and keep life in -them till you can get them here. Of course there is a surgeon in each -ambulance to tell you what to do. The danger is that you will have to -go much nearer the fighting line and that you may see even more painful -things than you have been seeing in the hospital. Really, child, I -don’t advise you to attempt it.” - -For with the first realization of what Eugenia meant Barbara had -turned deathly pale and was now fighting a sensation of faintness. - -“It isn’t that I am in the least afraid, Eugenia,” she faltered, as -soon as she could trust her voice. Even then it was fairly shaky. “I -don’t mind running the risk or the work or any of those things. You -know what it is, Eugenia; there is no use trying to hide it. I simply -haven’t the nerve I thought I had. It is seeing the wounded soldiers, -so many of them. I lie awake at night and dream the most dreadful -dreams. I keep thinking I--but I had better not speak of it. I’ve -simply got to say I can’t undertake the work. I hate it too on account -of Nona; she is sure to try this ambulance work, for only the other day -she told me that she longed to get closer to the scene of action. But -what must I say, Eugenia, when I refuse? I’m afraid I can’t make any -one understand that I’m not exactly a coward; I am used to sickness, -but somehow this all seems so different.” - -Again Eugenia pressed the small hand she held in her large, capable -one. - -“Tell the truth, my dear, and then go back home to the United States. -From the moment I saw you I didn’t believe this Red Cross work would be -suitable for you. I told you you were too young, and I thought you were -too quick-tempered and emotional, though I did not speak of this. There -is plenty of nursing you might be able to do at home--children, or old -people.” - -Eugenia was growing sleepy; she had such a little while to rest that -she was forgetting to be tactful. - -“Whether you wish to go back home or not, Barbara, I’m afraid you must -if you won’t undertake this ambulance work. The Superintendent says -she likes you very much and all that, but really does not feel it wise -for you to stay on at the hospital. There is so much nursing required -and so little room that the girls who cannot give the best kind of -service are really in the way. I am sorry to hurt your feelings, but -it is better for me to tell you this than any one else,” Eugenia -concluded, again made sympathetic by the hurt in the younger girl’s -face. Barbara looked so broken and humiliated, so intensely ashamed -of her own failure. Nevertheless, Eugenia could not help seeing that -even at this minute Barbara suggested a little girl who has been caught -in wrongdoing at school. She simply did not seem able to appear like a -grown-up person into whose hands life and death could be intrusted. - -For ten minutes afterwards Barbara made no reply. But she got up and -put on her nurse’s uniform again, hiding her short brown curls beneath -her stiff white cap and covering her blue frock with her white apron -bearing its cross of red. - -Then for a moment when Eugenia seemed to be asleep Barbara dropped on -her knees before the open window, gazing out in the direction where -she knew the zone of danger and terror lay. Swiftly the girl uttered a -prayer for strength and courage. The next moment she crossed over to -Eugenia. - -“I am going to undertake the ambulance service. I may flunk that too, -but at least I can try, and as the book says, ‘angels can do no more.’ -And I’m distinctly not an angel.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV _Colonel Dalton_ - - -In the meantime Nona was on duty in the convalescent ward. It was the -work that she had been able to attend to with peculiar success ever -since her arrival at the base hospital. This was a duty which many of -the Red Cross nurses liked the least. For the convalescent soldiers -were often like spoiled and nervous children. It was amazing how many -drinks of water they required, how frequently their pillows had to be -turned, how often letters from home had to be read and re-read until -the nurses knew them by heart as well as the patients. - -It was a dark, cloudy afternoon when Nona entered the big room and -before she had more than crossed the threshold she became aware of an -atmosphere of gloom and ill-temper. - -Daisy Redmond, the English girl with whom they had crossed the Channel, -had been in attendance on the ward before Nona’s appearance and she -seemed bored and annoyed. She was a very good nurse for an ill person, -but too serious and reserved to cheer the convalescent, and on Nona’s -entrance she gave a sigh of relief. - -The room, which was used for the soldiers who were on the high road to -recovery from whatever disaster they had suffered, must have been the -refectory or the old dining hall of the convent in the days before the -Franco-Prussian war. It was an oblong room with a high ceiling crossed -by great oak beams. Midway up the walls were of dark oak and the rest -of stone. The floor was of stone and the windows high and crossed -with small iron bars. While they let in the air and sunlight, it was -impossible to see much of the outside world unless one climbed a ladder -or chair. Evidently it had been thought best not to permit the little -French convent maids to seek for distractions even among the flowers -and trees. - -So the great room, in spite of its perfect cleanliness, had little -suggestion of gayety or beauty to recommend it at present. The floor, -walls, beds, everything apparently had been scrubbed to the limit of -perfection and were smelling of antiseptics. But there was not a flower -in the room, not a picture, only two long rows of beds each containing -a weary, impatient soldier, longing to be home with his own people or -back at the front with the other Tommies. - -Almost anyone might have become discouraged with the prospect of two -hours’ effort in such surroundings, but Nona never dreamed of flinching. - -As she went up toward the first bed, the young fellow with his right -arm in a sling who was trying to write with his left hand, used a short -word of three letters. He was a boy who worked in a butcher’s shop in -London. When he saw Nona so near him, he blushed crimson and stammered -an apology. - -Nona only laughed. “Oh, I say that myself sometimes, inside of me,” she -whispered. “If it hurts your arm, do let me finish your letter. I’d -like to add a line or two anyhow just to let Addie know you are really -getting well and not trying to encourage her with false hopes.” - -The young fellow smiled. It was clever of the little American girl to -remember his girl’s name. He was glad enough to have her end his letter -so that he might lie down again. Besides, he liked to have her sitting -near him, she was so pretty--the prettiest nurse in the hospital in his -opinion. Five minutes after when Nona had finished his letter and made -him comfortable, he sighed to have her leave him. She was only going to -another duffer a few beds away, who had been trying to read and dropped -all his magazines on the floor. With one of his legs in a plaster cast, -he had almost broken his neck trying to fish for them. - -So Nona wandered up and down the ward doing whatever was asked of -her. She felt that she was being useful in spite of her lack of long -experience in nursing. But it was amusing the queer things she was -called upon to do. - -She was passing one of the cots where a boy lay who had received a -wound in his head. He was not more than seventeen or eighteen, and -was a blue-eyed, fair-haired boy with a mouth like a young girl’s. You -would never have dreamed of him as a fighter; indeed, he had left Eton -to join the army and had never before known a real hardship in his -life. But now a pair of wasted white hands clasped Nona’s skirt. - -Looking down she discovered that the bandage had slipped off his -forehead and that his eyes were full of tears. - -Nona’s own eyes were dim as she bent toward him. - -“Are you suffering again?” she asked gently. “I am so sorry; I thought -you were almost well.” - -“It isn’t that,” the boy whispered. “I wouldn’t mind the pain; it’s -only--oh, I might as well say it, I want my mother. Funny to behave -like a cry-baby. I wish I could sleep. I wonder if you could sing to -me?” - -At first Nona shook her head. “Why I can’t sing, really,” she returned. -“I have never had a music lesson in my life. I only know two or three -songs that I used to sing to my father way down in South Carolina. I -expect you hardly know there is such a place.” - -Then suddenly the boy’s disappointed face made the girl hesitate. - -She glanced about them. In the bed next to the boy’s the man she and -Barbara had rescued from the aeroplane disaster lay apparently too -deeply absorbed in a bundle of newspapers to pay the least attention to -them. - -By this time he had almost recovered and was enormously impatient to -return to his regiment. It appeared that he was not a regular member of -the aviation corps, but a colonel in command of one of the crack line -regiments. However, he happened also to be a skilled aviator and on the -morning of the accident, having a leave of absence from his command, -had gone up to reconnoiter over the enemy’s lines. - -No, Colonel Dalton would pay no attention to her, Nona felt convinced. -He was very quiet and stern and a distinguished soldier, so that most -of the nurses were afraid of him. - -“If you’ll try to sleep, why I’ll sing softly just to you, so we need -not disturb any one else,” Nona murmured, kneeling down by the side of -the boy’s cot so that her face was not far from his. “I only know some -old darkey songs.” - -Straightway the young English boy closed his eyes. Very quietly in a -hushed voice Nona began to sing, believing no one else would listen. - -She chanced to be kneeling just under one of the tall windows and the -afternoon sun shone down upon her white cap, her pale gold hair and -delicate face. If she had known it she was not unlike a little nun, but -fortunately Nona had no thought of herself. - -She had only a small voice, but it was sweet and clear. - - “All this world am sad and dreary, - Everywhere I roam, - Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary, - Far from the old folks at home.” - -Not one, but half a dozen soldiers lay quiet listening to Nona’s song. -She was only aware that the boy for whom she was singing was breathing -more evenly as she sang on and that there was a happier curve to his -lips. In a few moments more, if nothing occurred to disturb him, he -must be asleep. - -So Nona did not know that Colonel Dalton, although holding his beloved -London newspaper before his face, had been watching her and that her -old-fashioned song had touched him. - -She was slipping away with her patient finally asleep when he motioned -to her. - -“It is a wonderful thing you are doing, Miss Davis,” he began in a low -tone, so as not to disturb the sleeper, “you a young American girl -to come over here to help care for our British boys. I want to shake -hands with you if I may, you and that clever little friend of yours, -who helped me out of my difficulty. I shall be away from the hospital -in a few days and back at my post, as I’ve almost entirely recovered -from the effects of the chlorine gas. But later on if I can ever be of -service to you in any way, you are to count upon me. I trust that at -some future day the English nation can show its appreciation for what -the United States has done for us in this tragic war.” - -Colonel Dalton spoke with so much feeling and dignity that Nona was -both pleased and embarrassed. Of course, she seemed like a young girl -to him, and yet after all Colonel Dalton could be only a little over -thirty. It must be something in his character or in his history that -gave his face the expression of sadness and sternness. Although his -duties as an officer in the war might already have created the look. - -“You are very good,” she murmured confusedly. She was moving away when -she noticed that Colonel Dalton was staring fixedly, not at her, but at -a brooch which she wore fastening her nurse’s apron to her dress. - -But probably he was in a reverie and not seeing anything at all! - -However, Nona did not have to remain long in doubt. Colonel Dalton -spoke abruptly. - -“That’s an extraordinary pin you’ve got there, a collection of letters -isn’t it? I wonder if by any chance it represents the motto of your -own family?” - -Nona shook her head and carelessly unclasped the pin. “No,” she -answered, “and I have scarcely been able to find out what the letters -spell. I wonder if you could tell me.” - -The man scarcely glanced at the pin. “The letters are ‘Vinces,’ the -Latin for ‘Conquer.’” Then strangely enough Colonel Dalton flushed, a -curious brick-red, which is a peculiarity of many Englishmen. - -“It’s a remarkable request I wish to make of you, Miss Davis. But would -you mind parting with that little pin? It’s an odd fancy of mine, but -then every soldier is superstitious and I should like very much to -possess it. Possibly because of the meaning of the word, for the word -‘Conquer’ never meant more in the history of the world than it does to -an Englishman today.” - -But Nona had crimsoned uncomfortably and was clutching at her brooch -in a stupid fashion. “I am awfully sorry,” she murmured, “it must seem -ungracious of me, but I value the pin very much. You see, it was given -me by some one----” - -“In this country, or in your own?” Colonel Dalton interrupted. - -Again Nona hesitated. Suddenly she had become conscious of the unread -letter in her pocket which she had just received from Lady Dorian, and -of the hour of their parting and her bestowal of the pin. - -She smiled. “It wasn’t given me in either your country or mine, but -upon the sea.” - -Then she walked over to another patient who required a drink of water. - - - - -CHAPTER XV _Newspaper Letters_ - - -Curiously Mildred Thornton was also spending an unexpected afternoon. -She had been looking forward to her walk with Mrs. Curtis. Mildred -too had been feeling the strain of the first weeks at the hospital -more than she had confessed. She was one of the girls whom one speaks -of as a natural nurse--quiet, sympathetic and efficient--and so had -immediately been given especially trying cases. And Mildred was not -accustomed to roughing it, since her home surroundings were luxurious -and beautiful. So though she had made no complaint and showed no lack -of courage, as Barbara had, she was tired and now and then, when she -had time to think, homesick. - -Mrs. Curtis had been kind and whatever prejudice the other girls -felt, she sincerely liked her. Moreover, Mildred also liked her son, -although this she had not confessed so freely to herself. But she was -thinking of both of them as she walked through the fields to the home -of Mère Marie. - -Perhaps Mrs. Curtis would have received news from Brooks. He was -supposed to be not far away making a study of conditions in the -British line of trenches not far from the Belgian border. He must know -extraordinarily interesting things. Mildred too shared the almost -morbid curiosity which everybody of intelligence feels today. What is a -modern battlefield really like, what is the daily life of the soldier, -and what is this strange new world of the trenches, where men live and -work underground as if all humanity had developed the tendencies of the -mole? - -Mildred did not share Nona Davis’ desire to go and find out these -things for herself, but being so near the scene of action as they were -could not but stimulate one’s interest. And daily the motor ambulances -brought the wounded from the nearby battlefield to their door. - -At Mère Marie’s Mildred first saw the boy Anton sitting crouched -before the hut. He leered at her foolishly and said something which -she did not understand. So somewhat nervously Mildred knocked on the -heavy wooden door. She too was afraid of Anton; one could scarcely help -being, although all the people in the neighborhood insisted that he was -perfectly harmless. As he used to bring vegetables from his mother’s -garden and run errands for the staff at the hospital, he was a very -well-known character. - -However, Mildred was just as glad when the door opened. - -But to her surprise, instead of seeing Mrs. Curtis, Brooks Curtis was -there to greet her. - -He seemed a little nervous at first, but when Mildred showed pleasure -at seeing him, became more cheerful. - -Mère Marie’s big room was empty and so the girl and young man sat down -on wooden stools in front of the smouldering peat fire. - -It appeared that Brooks was discouraged. So far he had not been allowed -to get inside the British firing line and feared that his newspaper at -home would be disappointed in him. - -Mildred did her best to reassure him. She was accustomed to trying to -make people more comfortable. All her life her brother Dick had been -confiding his annoyances to her, depending on her sympathy and advice. -And Mildred had been missing Dick dreadfully since the first hour of -her sailing. For though possibly he was as spoiled and selfish as -Barbara Meade plainly thought him, he was a fairly satisfactory brother -in his way. So she found it not unpleasant to behave in a sisterly -fashion toward Brooks Curtis. - -Indeed, half an hour had passed before it occurred to Mildred that Mrs. -Curtis had not appeared and that she had not even asked for her. - -However, just as she was making up her mind to inquire, Mrs. Curtis -came into the room. - -She had on a dressing gown and looked pale and ill. - -“I am so sorry. I suppose Brooks has explained to you,” she began. -“But I have a frightful headache and don’t feel equal to going out this -afternoon. I don’t think you should miss your walk, Miss Thornton, you -are kept indoors so much at the hospital. So I wonder if you won’t take -your walk with Brooks instead of me and then come back here and have -coffee and cake.” - -Mildred felt a little uncomfortable. There was no doubt of Mrs. Curtis’ -illness; seldom had she seen anybody more nervous and wretched from a -headache. Yet Mildred did not know exactly what to do or say. Very much -she desired to spend a part of her one free afternoon in the air and -sunshine away from the pain and sorrow of the hospital. She was not -averse to spending it with Brooks Curtis instead of his mother. But she -was not sure whether it would be right for her to take a walk alone -with a man whom she really knew nothing about. The days on shipboard -had made them behave like fairly intimate friends. However, she also -felt it would appear stupid and unfriendly of her to refuse. Even if -Eugenia and the other girls disapproved later, the whole question of -Mrs. Curtis and her son was not their affair. Moreover, Mildred did not -intend confiding in them. - -So she blushed a little and then answered awkwardly. - -“Oh, of course I don’t want to miss my walk and I don’t mind if Mr. -Curtis wishes to come with me. Only he is not to trouble, because I am -not afraid to go alone.” - -Then Mildred felt like stamping her foot. Ever since getting away from -the conventional society atmosphere of her own home she had been more -at ease and less self-conscious. Had not her friendship with Mrs. -Curtis and her son proved that she was not always stiff and silent? -Assuredly Brooks had preferred her to any of the other girls, even -though they were far prettier and more attractive. Yet here she was, -through her old shyness, spoiling everything. - -Mildred smiled unexpectedly, which always relieved the plainness of her -face. - -“I was not telling the truth then,” she added, “I should enjoy my walk -ever so much more if Mr. Curtis will go with me.” - -An hour later and the girl and her companion had climbed the nearest -hill in that part of the country. It was not quite a mile from the -hospital and was not a very high hill, yet Mildred was surprised at the -splendid view. - -Brooks Curtis had brought with him the fine telescope which he had used -on the steamer in spite of the difficulty with his eyes. - -He pointed out to Mildred the direction in which General Sir John -French’s army lay entrenched. One could not see the exact place because -the line of trenches covered twelve miles of battle front and many -other miles of underground passages. Then he told her that the right -wing of the British army which was in position nearest their hospital -was under the command of Lieutenant-General Porter and that Colonel -Dalton, who was ill, was one of his most talented officers. - -Secretly Mildred Thornton was amazed and fascinated. She had been -convinced early in their acquaintance that Brooks Curtis was an -unusually clever fellow. He was not handsome and there was something -a little odd about him. Mildred was sympathetic with people who were -not good looking and not at ease. Now she was really surprised at his -information about the British army. For after all he had only been in -France for a short time. - -“But I thought you said you had not been able to go through the -trenches,” Mildred expostulated, “yet already you know a great deal.” - -The young man shook his head mournfully. “I know nothing of importance -yet,” he returned with such emphasis that Mildred was the more -impressed. Above all things she admired determination of character. - -Then for a few moments neither the girl nor the young man spoke. - -Mildred was trying to locate in a vague fashion certain positions of -the army which her companion had just described. Two miles farther to -the north Mildred could see a low range of hills which seemed deeply -curtained by trees. In the midst of those trees Brooks insisted the -British army had stationed long-range guns. They were guns of a new -character and no one yet knew what their power of destruction might be. -Behind the artillery there were telephone connections with the trenches -miles away. - -Really Mildred Thornton was too interested in the information imparted -by her new friend to pay any special attention to what he might be -doing. - -However, he had taken off his glasses, gotten out a note book and was -now writing as rapidly as possible. - -By and by he got out an envelope and put the papers inside it, together -with some others that were there previously. - -At this minute Mildred looked around. - -“Oh, dear, it is late; we must be going back as quickly as possible!” -she exclaimed, and then got up without allowing her companion -opportunity to assist her. - -Nevertheless, the young man did not follow her for a moment. - -“I wish you would stay just an instant longer,” he asked instead. - -And when Mildred turned he still held the envelope in his hand. - -“I want to ask you a favor, Miss Thornton, and I don’t know just how -to explain. I wonder if you will be good enough to mail this letter -of mine from the hospital along with your own home mail? You see, it -is like this with the newspaper fellows, all our mail is so censored -that the news we want to send to the United States is usually cut out -before it arrives. There is no good my writing exactly what the other -fellows send. So I thought if you would mail this for me like private -mail along with the nurses’ letters, why I’d stand a chance. I know it -is asking a good deal of a favor of you. But somehow I have felt you -were my friend ever since our first meeting and my mother feels the -same way. You see, we are awfully poor. Of course you can’t know what -that means, but for my mother’s sake and my own I’m terribly anxious to -make good with my war stories. I feel if I can make a reputation now my -future will be assured.” - -Whether Brooks Curtis was a student of character or not, one does not -yet know. But certainly he had gauged Mildred. - -If there was anything that did appeal to her it was the thought of -another’s struggle and the possibility that she might help. Just -because she had always spent such a rich and sheltered life her desire -to aid others was the stronger. So Mildred promised to mail the letter -to an address in Brooklyn, placing the address on the envelope with her -own handwriting so as to avoid questioning. - -Neither did she feel that she was doing anything unusual. The deception -was too small to be considered. Besides, what difference could it make -to the hospital authorities if one more letter were added to their mail -bag? - -“I shall never cease to appreciate your kindness,” Brooks Curtis said -at parting, “and you won’t mind, will you, if now and then Anton brings -you other letters to the hospital? I may not be able to get away to -bring them myself.” - -Mildred nodded without thinking of this side of the question seriously. -The truth of the matter was that she was in too much of a hurry now to -return to her work. Although she had not gone back to Mère Marie’s for -coffee, they had been out longer than she realized. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI _The Ambulance Corps_ - - -A few days later it was definitely arranged that Nona Davis, Barbara -Meade, Lady Dorothy Mathers and Daisy Redmond should be enrolled in the -Red Cross ambulance work. - -To understand the service of the Red Cross ambulances one must be -familiar with the unusual conditions which existed in this most -terrible war of all human history. - -Most of us know, of course, that the greater part of the fighting -was done at night. By day scouts in aeroplanes endeavored to locate -the enemy’s positions, while sentries kept guard along the miles of -trenches to fire at any man who dared venture within what was called -the zone of death. So all the work of war except the actual fighting -must take place behind each army’s line of entrenchments. - -This means that in the early morning, when the night’s cruelties were -past, the wounded soldiers were carried from the field of battle or -from the trenches to some place of safety in the rear. Here nurses -and doctors could give them first aid. And this required tremendous -personal bravery. The stricken soldiers must be borne in the arms of -their companions to the nearest Red Cross, or else lifted into the -ambulances or smaller motor cars. These traveled with all possible -speed across the tragic fields of the dead, as soon as a lull in the -firing made attempt at rescue possible. - -There, behind a barricade of trees, or of sand bags, or of a stone -wall, or whatever defense human ingenuity could invent, stood white -tents, or else a stable or house. These waved flags of white bearing a -crimson cross, demanding safety for the suffering. - -These temporary hospitals had to be established at any place where the -need was greatest. But the soldiers could not remain in these quarters. -As soon as possible they were taken to the nearest properly equipped -hospital, sometimes fairly near the fighting line. At other times they -were loaded into trains and borne many weary miles away. - -But in nearly every case they were carried to the cars or to the nearer -hospitals in the Red Cross ambulances. They were the only chariots of -peace the war had so far acquired. - -However, it is good to know that together with all the modern -inventions for the destruction of men, science had done all that was -possible to make the new Red Cross ambulances havens of comfort and of -cure. In Paris, the great Madame Curie, the discoverer of radium, had -been giving her time and talent to the equipment of ambulances for the -soldiers. From this country much of the money that had been poured so -generously into Europe had been devoted to their purchase. - -So the four Red Cross girls from the Hospital of the Sacred Heart (so -named in honor of the old convent school) were naturally impressed with -the importance of their new duties. - -The plan was that they were to travel back and forth from the field -hospitals with the wounded soldiers who required the most immediate -attention. A doctor would be in charge of each ambulance and of -necessity the chauffeur. Under the circumstances it was thought better -to have two nurses instead of one. The four additional nurses were -required because two new ambulances had just been added to the British -service, as a gift from New York City, through the efforts of Mrs. -Henry Payne, who was especially interested in the Sacred Heart Hospital. - -The morning that the girls left for the nearer neighborhood of the -battlefield was an exquisite June day. The sun is one of France’s many -lovers, turning her into “La Belle Dame,” the name by which she is -known to her own children and to some of her admirers from other lands. - -All the nurses who were off duty at the hospital poured out into the -garden to say farewell and God-speed to their companions. - -Except for the prejudice which Lady Dorothy Mathers and her friends -continued to feel against the four Americans, everybody else had -been most kind. The English manner is colder than the American or the -French, but once having learned to understand and like you, they are -the most loyal people in the world. - -Three of the American Red Cross girls were beginning to realize this. -But Barbara Meade still felt herself misunderstood and disliked. Under -normal conditions Barbara was not the type of girl given to posing as -“misunderstood” and being sorry for herself in consequence. - -The difficulty was that ever since her arrival the horror of the war -and the suffering about her had made her unlike herself. She felt -terribly western, terribly “gauche,” which is the French word meaning -left-handed and all that it implies. Then Barbara had a fashion of -saying exactly what she thought without reflecting on the time or -place. This had gotten her into trouble not once but a dozen times. -She did not mean to criticize, only she had the unfortunate habit of -thinking out loud. But most of all, Barbara lamented her own failure -as a nurse and all that it must argue to her companions. For so far -they had the right to consider her a shirker and a coward, or at least -as one of the tiresome, foolish women who rush off to care for the -wounded in a war because of an emotion and without the sense or the -training to be anything but hopelessly in the way. - -It was for this reason that Barbara had finally decided to accept the -new opportunity offered her. If she should make a failure of it, she -agreed with Eugenia’s frank statement of her case: she must simply go -back home so as not to be a nuisance. - -Curious, but one of the reasons why Barbara loathed the thought of her -own surrender was the idea that if she turned back, she would have to -face Dick Thornton in New York City. This thought had been in her mind -all along. For one thing she kept recalling how bravely she had talked -to Dick of her own intentions, and of how she had reproached him for -his idle existence. - -The worst of Barbara’s conviction was that should she return a -failure, no one would be kinder or more thoughtful of her feelings than -Dick. Of course, she had not known him very long, but it had been long -enough for her to appreciate that Dick Thornton was utterly without -the ugly spirit of “I told you so.” But perhaps his sympathy and quiet -acceptance of her weakness would be harder to endure than blame. - -So it was a very pale and silent Barbara who walked out of the old -stone convent that morning with her arm linked inside Eugenia’s. She -was beginning to appreciate Eugenia more and to realize that her first -impression of Miss Barbara Meade’s abilities, or lack of them, was not -so ridiculously unfair as she had thought. - -Certainly no one could be kinder than Eugenia had been in the few days -between Barbara’s acceptance of her new work and the time for actually -beginning it. - -She kept looking at her now, feeling almost as one would at the sight -of a frightened child. Poor Barbara was pretending to be so brave. -Though she had not spoken again of her own qualms, it was plain enough -to the older girl that Barbara was almost ill with apprehension. Not -that Eugenia believed she was afraid of the actual dangers that might -befall her from going so much closer to the battle front. She suffered -from the nervous dread of breaking down at the sight of the wounded and -so again failing to make good. - -The superintendent of the nurses, a splendid middle-aged woman from one -of the big London hospitals, was also aware of Barbara Meade’s state of -mind. For several days with all the other work she had to do she had -been quietly watching her. Here at the last moment she had an impulse -to tell Barbara to give up. After all, she was such a child and the -strain might be too much for her. Then she concluded it would be best -to let the girl find out for herself. - -The contrast was odd between the two American girls who were answering -this new call of war. Nona Davis did not seem nervous or alarmed. Not -that she was unconscious either of the dangers or the difficulties. She -seemed uplifted by some spiritual emotion. She was like a young Joan -of Arc, only she went forth to carry not a sword but a nurse’s “Red -Badge of Courage.” - -A little after daylight the four girls and two of the hospital surgeons -left for the front. The two new ambulances had been taken directly to -the field hospital where they were to meet them. - -The night before news had come that there had been fresh fighting and -help was needed at once. So one of the hospital automobiles had been -requisitioned to transport the little party. - -“We will be back by tonight with the wounded,” Nona Davis said calmly -as she kissed Mildred Thornton good-by. “You are not to worry about us. -I don’t think we are going into any danger.” - -Barbara made no attempt at farewells; she simply sat quietly on the -back seat of the car with her hand clasped inside Nona’s, and her eyes -full of tears. Had she tried to talk she might have broken down and -she was painfully conscious that the two English girls, Lady Dorothy -Mathers and Daisy Redmond, were staring at her in amazement. It was -hard to appreciate why if she was afraid of the war nursing, she would -not give it up. - -The first part of the drive was through country like that surrounding -the Sacred Heart Hospital. General Sir John French had given orders -that in every place where it was possible the agriculture of France -should be respected. The crops must not be trampled down and destroyed, -for the rich and poor of France alike must live and also feed their -army. - -So all along the first part of their route the girls could see women -and children at work. They wore the long, dark-blue blouses of the -French working classes, at once so much cleaner and more picturesque -than the old, half-worn cloth clothes of our own working people. - -It was all so serene and sweet that for a little while Nona and Barbara -almost forgot their errand. - -Then the face of the countryside changed. There were no peasants’ huts -that were not half in ruins, great houses occupied but a few months -before by the wealthy landowners of northern France were now as fallen -into disuse as if they had been ancient fortresses. Here and there, -where the artillery had swept them, forests of trees had fallen like -dead soldiers, and over certain of the fields there was a blight as if -they had been devastated with fire. - -Then the car brought the little party to the spot where in the morning -sunshine they caught the gleam of the Red Cross flag. - -The place was a deserted stable sheltered by a rise of ground. To the -front lay the British trenches, covered with thatch and the boughs -of many trees; to the right and some distance off, hidden behind -breastworks, were enormous long distance guns. - -Also one of the surgeons explained to Lady Dorothy and Nona, who seemed -most interested, that on the hill beyond the hospital where nothing -could be seen for the denseness of the shrubbery, several of the -officers had their headquarters and from there dictated the operations -in the trenches and in the fields. - -The night before must have been a busy one, for as the car stopped -behind the improvised hospital, soldiers in khaki could be seen -staggering back and forth with the wounded, surgeons with their work -showing all too realistically upon them. Then there were the sounds as -well as the sights of suffering. - -As Barbara Meade crawled out of the automobile she felt her knees give -way under her and a darkness swallow her up. Then she realized that she -must be fainting again. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII _Dick_ - - -“Steady,” a voice said in Barbara Meade’s ear, as a strong arm slipped -across her shoulders, bracing her upright. - -And so surprised was she by the voice and its intonation that she felt -herself brought back to consciousness. - -“Dick Thornton,” she began weakly, and then decided that in truth she -must be taking leave of her senses, to have an image of Dick obtrude -upon her at such a moment and in such a place. - -Naturally curiosity forced her to turn around and so for the instant -she forgot herself and her surroundings. - -She saw a young man in a khaki uniform of a kind of olive green with -a close-fitting cap and visor. But beneath the cap was a face which -was like and yet unlike the face of the friend she remembered. This -fellow’s expression was grave, almost sad, the dark-brown eyes were no -longer indifferent and mocking, the upright figure no longer inactive. -Indeed, there was action and courage and vigor in every line of the -figure and face. - -Barbara stepped back a few paces. - -“Dick Thornton,” she demanded, “have I lost my mind or what has -happened? Aren’t you several thousand miles away in New York City, or -Newport, where ever the place was you intended spending the summer? I -simply can’t believe my own eyes.” - -Dick slipped his arm inside Barbara Meade’s. For the time no one was -noticing them; the scene about them was absorbing every attention. - -“Just a moment, please, Barbara, I want to explain the situation to -you,” Dick asked, and drew the girl away behind the shelter of one of -the hospital wagons. - -“Sit down for a moment,” he urged. “Dear me, Barbara, what have they -been doing to you in the few weeks since we said good-by in good old -New York? You are as white and tiny as a little tired ghost.” - -But Barbara shook her head persuasively. “Please don’t talk about me,” -she pleaded. “I must know what has occurred. What could have induced -you to come over here where this terrible war is taking place, and what -are you doing now you are here? You aren’t a soldier, are you?” And -there was little in Barbara’s expression to suggest that she wished her -friend to answer “Yes.” - -Dick had also taken a seat on the ground alongside Barbara and now -quite simply he reached over and took her hand inside his in a friendly -strong grasp. - -“I don’t know which question to answer first, but I’ll try and not make -a long story. I want you to know and then I want you to tell Mill. -I came over to this part of the country so as to be near you. But I -haven’t wanted to see either of you until I found out whether I was -going to amount to anything. If I wasn’t of use I was going on back -home without making a fuss. You see, Barbara, I suppose your visit to -us set me thinking. You had a kind way of suggesting, perhaps without -meaning it, that I was a pretty idle, good-for-nothing fellow, not -worth my salt, let alone the amount of sugar my father was bestowing -on me. Well, I pretended not to mind. Certainly I didn’t want a little -thing like you to find out you had made an impression on me. Still, -things you said rankled. Then you and old Mill went away. I couldn’t -get either of you out of my mind. It seemed pretty rotten, me staying -at home dancing the fox trot and you and Mill over here up against -the Lord knows what. So I--I just cleared out and came along too. But -there, I didn’t mean to talk so much. Whatever is the matter with you, -Barbara? You look like you were going to keel over again, just as you -did when you tumbled out of that car.” - -The girl shook her head. “You can’t mean, Dick, that you have come over -to enlist in this war because of what I said in New York? Oh, dear me, -I thought I was unhappy enough. Now if anything happens to you your -mother will have every right not to forgive me; besides, I shall never -forgive myself.” - -Barbara said the last few words under her breath. Although hearing them -perfectly, Dick Thornton only smiled. - -“Oh, I wouldn’t take matters as seriously as that,” he returned. “I -didn’t mean to make you responsible for my proceedings. I only meant -you waked me up and then, please heaven, I did the rest myself. See -here, Barbara, after all I am a man, or at least made in the image of -one. And I want to tell you frankly that I’ve gone into this terrible -war game for two reasons. I don’t suppose many people do things in this -world from unmixed motives. I want to help the Allies; I think they are -right and so they have got to win. Then I thought I’d like to prove -that I had some of the real stuff in me and wasn’t just the little son -of a big man. Then, well, here are you and Mill. I’m not a whole lot -of use, but I like being around if anything should go wrong. We didn’t -know each other very long, Barbara, but I’m frank to confess I like -you. You seem to me the bravest, most go-ahead girl I ever met, and I -am proud to know you. I believe we were meant to be friends. Just see -how we have been calling each other by our first names as if we had -been doing it always. Funny how we left our titles behind us in New -York.” - -Dick was talking on at random, trying to persuade his companion to a -little more cheerfulness. Surely they were meeting again in gruesome -surroundings. Yet one must not meet even life’s worst tragedies without -the courage of occasional laughter. - -“But I’m not brave, or any of the things you are kind enough to think -me; I’m not even deserving of your friendship, let alone your praise,” -the girl answered meekly. Her old sparkle and fire appeared gone. Dick -Thornton was first amazed and then angry. What had they been doing -to his little friend to make her so changed in a few weeks? He said -nothing, however, only waited for her to go on. - -But Barbara did not continue at once. For of a sudden there was an -unexpected noise, a savage roaring and bellowing and then a muffled -explosion. - -The hand inside the American boy’s turned suddenly cold. - -“What was that?” she whispered. - -But Dick shook his head indifferently. “Oh, just a few big guns letting -themselves go. They do that now and then unexpectedly. There is no real -fighting. I have been here a week. Sometimes at night there is a steady -crack, crack of rifles down miles and miles of the trenches from both -sides and as far off as you can hear. Then every once in a while like -thunder of angry heathen gods the cannons roar. It’s a pretty mad, bad -world, Barbara.” - -By this time the noise had died away and Barbara took her hand from -Dick’s. - -“We must not stay here much longer,” she suggested, “yet I must tell -you something. You remember all the things I said to you in New York -about being useful and a girl having as much courage as a boy and the -right to live her own life and all that?” - -Dick nodded encouragingly. Nevertheless and in spite of their -surroundings he had to pretend to a gravity he did not actually feel. -For to him at least Barbara appeared at this moment enchantingly pretty -and absurd. - -If only she had not been so tiny and her eyes so big and softly blue! -Of course, the short brown curls were now hidden under her nurse’s -cap. But her lips were quivering and the color coming and going in -her cheeks, which now held little hollows where the roundness had -previously been. - -She held her hands tight together across her knees. - -“I have turned out a hopeless failure with my nursing, Dick. All -the silly things I told you about myself were just vanity. Eugenia -and Mildred and even Nona, who has had little experience, are doing -splendidly. But the Superintendent and all the people in charge of our -hospital want me to go home. You see, the trouble is I’m a coward. -Sometimes I don’t know whether I am afraid for myself or whether it is -because I am so wretched over all the pain around me. I try to believe -it is the last, but I don’t know. When that cannon was fired I was -frightened for us.” - -Dick Thornton’s expression had changed. “Why, of course you were. Who -isn’t scared to death all the time in such an infernal racket? Suppose -you think I haven’t been frightened out of my senses all this week? I -just go about with my knees shaking and scarcely know what I’m doing. -The soldiers tell me they feel the same way when they first get into -the firing line; after a while one gets more used to it. But see here, -Barbara,” Dick’s brows knit and the lines about his handsome mouth -deepened. “If you feel the way you say you do, in heaven’s name tell me -what you mean by coming so near the battlefield? Whatever put it into -your head to attempt this ambulance work? Why don’t you stay at the -hospital and make yourself useful? That’s what Mildred is doing, isn’t -she?” - -Barbara nodded. “Yes, but I wasn’t useful at the hospital. So I decided -to walk right up to the cannon’s mouth and see if I couldn’t conquer -myself. If my nerves don’t go to pieces here I feel I can endure most -anything afterwards.” Barbara glanced fearfully about her. Fortunately -they were hidden from any sight of suffering. Then she got quietly up -on her feet. - -“I must go to my work now, I’m afraid I have already been shirking,” -she said. “But please, Dick, you have not yet answered my question. -What is it you are doing with the army? Have you enlisted as a soldier?” - -Dick took off his cap. Already his skin had darkened from the week’s -hardships and exposure, for a line of white showed between his hair and -the end of his cap. - -“No, I am not a soldier, Barbara. After all, you know I am an American -and I don’t quite feel like killing anybody, German or no German. So -I am trying to do the little I can to help the fellows who are hurt, -just as you are, although in a different fashion. Remember I told you -once that my real gift might be that of a chauffeur. Well, that’s what -I am these days, a glorified chauffeur. I am running one of the field -ambulances. You see, I am a pretty skilful driver. I go out over the -fields with my car whenever the Deutschers give us a chance and with -two other fellows pick up the wounded Tommies and try to rush them back -to safety. It’s a pretty exciting business. But somehow in spite of -being scared I like it.” - -Barbara again held out her hand. “Will you shake hands with me before -we have to say good-by? Because I want you to know that when I thought -you were careless and good for nothing you were really brave and -splendid. While I--oh, well, it is tiresome to talk about oneself. -You’ll come to see us as soon as you can. Mildred will be so anxious. -And please, please be careful for her sake.” - -For half a moment Barbara had an impulse to mention Mildred Thornton’s -intimacy with Brooks Curtis, the young newspaper correspondent, to -her brother. But then she realized that there was not time. Moreover, -Mildred would probably prefer telling him whatever there might be to -tell herself. - -Besides, at this instant Nona Davis appeared, looking both worried and -annoyed. What had become of Barbara Meade that she was not attending to -her duties? Was she ill again? - -Naturally on discovering Barbara talking to a stranger at such a time -Nona was puzzled and displeased. She had never seen Dick Thornton to -know him, although Mildred had of course frequently spoken of her -brother. - -A few seconds later, when the necessary explanations had been made, -Nona and Barbara went together into the temporary hospital building. -Dick found his quarters and dropped asleep. He had not thought it worth -while to mention to Barbara that he had been working like a Hercules -since earliest dawn. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII _A Reappearance_ - - -After several weeks of the ambulance work, Barbara found herself -growing more accustomed to it. Not that she had recovered from her -horror and dread. But she had at least learned to control her nerves -and to become more useful. She was able to make up her mind, as Dick -had told her, that everybody felt much as she did, but simply showed -greater stoicism. - -Fortunately for Barbara, her first two weeks of work came after a lull -in the fighting at Neuve Chapelle. There were but few desperately -wounded soldiers to be brought to the hospital. Most of the men were -either ill from natural causes or from some disease contracted in the -trenches. Only now and then an occasional shot from across the line -found the way to its victim. - -Then frequently during this period Barbara and Dick enjoyed -opportunities for short conversations. Several times Dick had received -leaves of absence to come and see his sister and her friends. - -He was immediately a great favorite with the hospital staff. He and -Nona Davis seemed to understand each other particularly well. There was -some bond of likeness between them. Both of them moved slowly, had an -air of languor and easy grace, and yet when the necessity arose were -capable of the swiftest and most definite action. - -Several times the idea came to Barbara: would Dick and Nona some day -learn to care seriously for each other? She used to feel lonely and -cold at this thought, yet all the while recognizing that this might -prove a beautiful relationship. - -Nona seemed so brave. The other girl could not but marvel. - -Whatever work she had to do she went through it and so far as one could -see showed no qualms or misgivings. In the dreary ride from the field -Nona used always to take charge of the patient who suffered most. -And though sometimes her delicate face was like alabaster she never -faltered either in her care or cheerfulness. - -Dr. Milton, a young Englishman who had charge of one of the new -ambulances, was open in his praise of Nona’s assistance. He could -scarcely believe she had so little previous nursing experience. But -then Daisy Redmond insisted that the young surgeon was half in love -with the southern girl and so his opinion was prejudiced. - -Moreover, Mildred Thornton also seemed greatly cheered by her brother’s -appearance, although this was natural enough. At first she had been -frightened for his safety, but as the days passed and no fresh fighting -took place her fears abated. - -By nature Mildred Thornton was extremely reticent. Never being -congenial with her mother, she had never made a confidant of her. Then, -while Dick always told her his secrets, she had but few of her own -and not specially liking to talk, kept these to herself. So perhaps -by accident and perhaps because of her nature she said little to her -brother about her new acquaintances, Mrs. Curtis and Brooks Curtis. In -a vague way Dick knew of them both, understood that Mildred now and -then went to call on the mother and liked her. But he did not know -that Mildred ever saw the young man or that she received frequent -letters from him. Nor that these letters were brought to her in a -mysterious fashion by Anton, the half-witted French boy, by an especial -arrangement. - -In the rear of the garden there chanced to be a loose stone in the old -convent wall. The letters were thrust under this stone. So whenever -Mildred was alone and had the chance she could collect her own mail. - -There seemed nothing so specially remarkable to Mildred in this -arrangement. The letters usually only contained a short note written -to her. The rest of the enclosure were presumably the letters which -Brooks Curtis was sending to his newspaper in the United States through -Mildred’s aid. For she used to address them to the street and number he -had given her and mail them at the same time she mailed her own home -letters. - -Probably Mildred did not talk more of her friendship with the young -newspaper man because she did not wish to betray what she was doing for -him. There could be no harm in it and yet there was a possibility that -the hospital authorities might object, everything was being so strictly -and so carefully managed. - -Only two or three times since their walk together had Mildred seen the -young man himself. But she always spent the hours she was off duty with -his mother and apparently knew the history of the son from his youth up. - -Mrs. Curtis said that she herself was a New Yorker, but that her -husband had been a foreigner, of what nationality she did not mention. -But Brooks had been taught several languages when he was a young boy, -both French and German. These were most useful to him in his work. Then -she spoke freely of the admiration her son felt for Mildred and that -ordinarily he did not like the society of girls. - -So Mildred was pleased and a little flattered. Brooks Curtis was -unusually clever, there was no disputing that, and at times had -agreeable manners, only he was moody and changeable. Possibly had -Mildred met him under other circumstances she would have felt no -interest in him. But she had a kind of fellow feeling for her own -countryman in a strange land. - -And though Mildred was not aware of it, Mrs. Curtis was an adept in the -art of flattery. No one in her life had ever said such charming things -to the girl, or made her feel of so great importance. Mrs. Curtis -hung on everything Mildred said. She persuaded her she could not have -endured her own loneliness except for the girl’s kindness. - -Perhaps owing to the same streak of reticence and a little -self-depreciation, Mildred had not yet become very intimate with the -other three American Red Cross girls who were her companions. They were -nice to her, but Barbara and Nona had developed a friendship which made -her feel a little left out, and Eugenia was too cold and too occupied -with her work for confidences. One so often wondered if she could be a -real flesh-and-blood woman. - -So the days passed. In spite of the tragedy surrounding them a kind of -routine filled the lives of the Red Cross girls, as it did those of the -soldiers at the front except during the hours of actual warfare. - -Actually one afternoon Nona and Barbara drove back to the hospital in -the ambulance with only one patient, who was fast asleep for most of -the journey. - -By and by Nona took a letter out of her pocket. “I have been meaning to -tell you, Barbara, and have never had a real chance. Lady Dorian, the -friend we met on the ship, has been acquitted of the charges against -her in London. She says that they were not able to prove anything, -though she does not feel sure that she is not still regarded with -suspicion. The papers she carried with her were family papers and had -nothing to do with political matters. She declares that she is not in -the least a German sympathizer, but that she longs and prays for peace. -She has been trying to establish some kind of peace party in London, -I think. Some time ago, in the first letter I received from her, she -told me to ask Eugenia if she still objected to our friendship, now -that there were no clouds against her. Of course Eugenia said, ‘No.’ So -Lady Dorian writes me that she is coming over to our hospital. Not to -nurse; she does not know how to do that, but she has given the hospital -a lot of money and is going to help with the office work. I am deeply -interested to see her again. You know I had a feeling we would meet. I -don’t often take fancies to people, but I have taken a strange one to -her.” - -Barbara nodded. “I like her too, but perhaps not just in the way you -do. For I still feel there is some mystery about her that makes me -uncomfortable. But she is beautiful and charming and I shall look -forward to her coming.” - -That same afternoon just at dusk Barbara and Nona arrived at the Sacred -Heart Hospital. They were so tired that they went straight to their -rooms and laid down. - -Half an hour afterwards Eugenia Peabody knocked at the door and opened -it. She had with her a tall woman dressed quietly in a plain dark-blue -dress fitting the lines of her figure closely. Even in the dusk she -gave one a sense of beauty and poise, and there was an odor about her -like lilacs. - -She kissed both girls as if they had been real friends. - -“I have been hearing of what you have been doing and I’m very proud of -you,” she murmured. “I hope I may be useful too.” - -But Nona half saw and half felt that the woman for whom she had -conceived such an intense fancy looked very weary and sad. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX _The Test_ - - -One morning a short time afterwards, as the Red Cross ambulance drew -within two miles of the field hospital, the chauffeur stopped. - -For a quarter of an hour before, though no one had spoken of it, the -four occupants of the wagon had heard the far-off echo of a tremendous -cannonading. It was not possible to locate the sound. - -Now the chauffeur turned to Dr. Milton. - -“I don’t know whether we ought to report for duty this morning,” he -volunteered. “I’ve an idea the trouble we hoped was pretty well over in -this neighborhood has broken out again. We will probably get into the -thick of things if we go much nearer.” - -Dr. Milton’s lips tightened. “That’s what we are here for, isn’t -it? Oh, I understand what you mean; of course you have no fear for -yourself. Let’s think the situation over.” - -The young fellow who had charge of the particular ambulance in which -Nona and Barbara were acting as nurses was a young Englishman who had -volunteered for the service from one of the Manchester automobile -factories. He was a skilled and trained workman and believed that in -guiding a Red Cross ambulance he was doing more for his country than in -actual fighting. But he was as gallant as possible and utterly fearless -for his own safety. - -The two men were together on the front seat of the car. Nevertheless, -when they began talking, as long as the ambulance was no longer in -movement, both Barbara and Nona were able to understand the subject of -their conversation. - -However, neither girl spoke immediately. - -Nona Davis turned to gaze at her companion. - -But Barbara seemed to have her entire attention engaged in straining -her ears to the noise of the bombarding. Now and again there was a -faint lull and then the noise broke out with added fury. Sometimes -the sound came from one side of the line and sometimes from the other. -There could be no disputing the fact, fighting had indeed begun again. - -Dr. Milton swung around and looked at Nona. - -“Miss Davis,” he began. “I know it is a great deal to ask of you and -Miss Meade. We are several miles this side of the hospital and the walk -will be a long one; nevertheless, won’t you both attempt it? Of course, -you have guessed, just as we have, that trouble has broken out afresh -in our neighborhood and if our ambulance goes on much farther we may -at any moment be in the midst of it. We are flying the Red Cross flag, -but that does not always save us, and couldn’t save us in any case from -the bursting of a shell. Yet Martin and I feel we must go on toward the -battlefield, as we are needed now more than any other time. We must not -take you into such danger, so if you will leave us----” - -Nona’s golden brown eyes wore almost an exalted look, they were so -free from thought of self. - -“But won’t nurses also be more needed?” she asked, although not -requiring an answer to so self-evident a question. - -“Dr. Milton, I entirely appreciate your feeling, but honestly I am not -afraid. I don’t exactly know why, but I don’t believe anything will -happen to me. If it does, why of course when one comes here for the Red -Cross work, one expects to take chances.” Again Nona glanced toward -Barbara, who still had not spoken. “Do you think there would be any -danger if Miss Meade should walk back to the hospital alone?” she asked. - -Really Nona had not the least idea of the insult her words implied to -the other girl. Not for worlds would she have wounded or offended her! -Neither did she believe Barbara a coward because she felt that the work -ahead of them might be too much for her. This business of nursing is -often a matter of sensibility. The people with the finest nerves and -tenderest hearts are least fitted for the profession. So it had become -almost a matter of course in the past few weeks for the three American -Red Cross girls to regard the fourth of their number in this light. - -But Barbara flushed so painfully that tears filled her eyes. - -“So that is what you think of me, is it, Nona?” she queried. But she -offered no further reproaches; only turning quietly toward the driver -of the ambulance said, “Drive on, will you, please. I too am unwilling -to go back now. We will, of course, be as careful as possible, since -only in that way can we really help.” - -Then nobody said another word for the next half an hour. Perhaps their -hearts were too full for speech or their nerves on too terrible a -tension. Also the noise of the firing as they approached nearer the -line of the British trenches grew more appalling. - -But along the way Nona slipped her hand inside Barbara’s and though -her lips were not opened, her apology was made and accepted. Moreover, -in a sub-conscious fashion Barbara appreciated that no distrust had -been intended. For indeed, the two girls were daily becoming closer and -closer friends now that their ambulance work gave them the chance for -spending long hours in each other’s society. Unlike as they were they -appreciated the very differences between them. - -But now was not the time for thinking of themselves nor of their -friendship. - -The thought of what lay before them called only for brave silences. - -With great skill and care the driver of their Red Cross ambulance -moved in the direction of the battle. There could be no doubt in any -mind of what was taking place. Therefore to approach even within the -neighborhood of the little field hospital near the trenches required -infinite caution and judgment. - -Once the car stopped short. Thirty yards before them a giant shell -tore through the air and fell, ripping a tunnel in the green earth. -The big ambulance wagon felt the shock of the explosion, but was not -sufficiently near to be endangered, except of course the thought would -force itself: Next time would they escape so easily? - -Yet mysteriously Nona and not even Barbara were so frightened as one -might expect. In moments of great peril, as we all know, a courage is -born which one does not have in the lesser moments of life. - -Once Barbara thought with a whimsical twisting of her lips no one saw, -that in all probability she was so terrified that she had no ordinary -method of showing it. One could not scream or cry out and certainly -one could not weep like a nervous school girl. Having made up her mind -to go through with whatever lay before them, stoicism was the only -possible way of facing the situation. - -Finally the ambulance arrived at the edge of a woods about half a mile -back from the stable which had been transformed into the temporary Red -Cross hospital at the beginning of the fighting at Neuve Chapelle. - -For the moment the noise of the cannon and guns from the two lines of -trenches lying so tragically near one another, made speech between the -occupants of the wagon almost impossible. Yet the young Englishman -brought his ambulance to a stand-still behind a clump of trees that so -far had been spared from destruction. - -“We must leave the ambulance here,” he directed, “it will be wiser to -bring the soldiers to the car, than run the risk of having it made a -target.” - -The ambulance surgeon nodded; there was no time for discussion. - -“Will you wait here or come with us nearer the hospital?” he asked, -looking at Nona. - -She made no reply, only started to follow the two men across the open -field that lay between the hiding place of the ambulance and the work -before them. Barbara silently kept at her side. - -The girls could see the ground shake as if stirred by an earthquake. -Then from the line, where they knew the British trenches to be -concealed, poured a steady stream of low-lying smoke crawling across -the land like innumerable serpents. This was returned in the same -fashion, while overhead thundered the larger field guns, whose smoke -hung like a giant cloud overhead. - -None of the guns were being turned upon the open space over which the -two girls and two men were running at a steady pace. Moreover, they -were somewhat protected by the breastworks which had been thrown up -before the little emergency hospital and the fact that the Red Cross -flag flew from a tall flagstaff set in front of it, visible many miles -away. - -They were well in sight of the hospital when Barbara’s former terror -reasserted itself. With this first glimpse, things were worse than her -most terrified dreams had pictured. - -Running across the meadows whenever a lull came in the firing were -soldiers bearing their stricken comrades. Because few of them dared -cease from their own labor of firing, the men at the work of rescue -were not soldiers but those who had specially volunteered for the -saving of the wounded. - -It is not worth while to speak of the scene at the field hospital. If -one’s own imagination cannot picture it, perhaps it is better never to -know of the horrors of a battlefield. - -For the next few hours Barbara and Nona worked as never before in -their lives. They became inspired human machines. No longer did they -consciously hear even the noises of the cannonading. Every instant -something had to be done. There were wounds to be cleansed, bandages -put on. The surgeons assisted when an operation could not be delayed. - -Often the two American Red Cross girls stood close together without -recognizing each other’s presence. - -Once and only once did Barbara Meade wake up. - -By chance she was standing by the opening of a great tent that had been -put up near the stable now serving as a temporary relief station after -it had become too crowded for usefulness. - -Some special sight or sound must have attracted her attention, although -she was not aware of it at the time. Her hands were busy holding a -basin of water, but her eyes were drawn in another direction. At that -moment Dick Thornton came into the tent bearing a wounded man in his -arms. - -Barbara paid no attention to the soldier. She found herself wondering -two things: one of them why she had not thought before of Dick’s peril, -and the other, how had she been able to recognize him so swiftly when -it was scarcely possible to see his face? - -Surely the Dick she recalled lounging in the beautiful old New York -library smoking a cigarette, wearing a velvet coat, perfumed and -smiling, had indeed vanished. This fellow’s face was covered with smoke -and blood, his khaki coat had been wrapped about a comrade so that now -he was in his shirt sleeves, but the shirt was torn and crimson. - -Was Dick wounded? Barbara had no chance to ask. Her friend did not look -toward her--was apparently not aware of her presence. A surgeon had -come forward to assist him, and finding an empty cot he put his burden -down upon it. The next instant he had gone. - -To Barbara’s credit she did not let the basin in her hands tremble for -even the slightest instant, neither did she falter in body or spirit. -She closed her lips tight together, stiffened her body and went on with -her work. - -But when her task was finished perhaps she showed the passing of an -unusual strain. Anyhow the doctor whom she had been helping chanced to -glance at her. - -“I say, Miss Meade,” he said kindly, “you are overdoing things. Nothing -to be gained by that. Go out in the fresh air, get away from this if -you can and rest ten or fifteen minutes. You should know when you feel -better.” - -The girl hesitated. - -“Do as I tell you,” the surgeon continued more sternly. “We haven’t -time to have you on our hands, and you look like you might keel over -after a little more of this.” - -Then wearily Barbara crept out into the fresh air, feeling all of a -sudden that her knees did not belong to her and that she was nearly -unable to stand. - -But once outside and with no duty before her, she managed to walk for -some little distance. In truth she did long to escape for a while from -the sorrow about her. But of course at such a time and in such a place -this was impossible. Between her and the battleground were only a few -meadows and fields. Nevertheless, the girl sank thankfully down upon -the earth, closing her eyes. At least she need _see_ no more terrors of -battle for a little time. - -How long she kept her eyes closed Barbara did not know, but when she -opened them she stared ahead of her with nothing definite in her mind, -as she was too fatigued to think. - -What she saw, however, was a small field ambulance waving a Red Cross -flag tearing across a space at no great distance away from her. It -traveled so fast that the car shook from its own vibrations, and in -the chauffeur’s seat Barbara had an instantaneous vision of the same -stained face she had recognized a short while before. - -It was all plain enough, Dick Thornton was engaged in the work of -rescue. He must have driven his field ambulance back into the danger -line and be again returning with wounded men. - -Barbara got quickly on her feet. Some instinct drove her forward, or -was it the inspiration of that careening wagon with its load of human -freight? - -Dick must have had a forewarning of danger, for never had he attempted -reaching safety with a more reckless effort at speed. Yet the disaster -came when he had about ceased to look for it. They were nearing the -hospital, there were no guns trained in their direction. Yet possibly a -mistake was made somewhere at this moment. The German gunners may have -thought that they had located a position where British officers were -giving their commands. - -Unexpectedly, and of course without warning, Barbara saw a cloud of -smoke surrounding the field ambulance, heard the noise of an exploding -shell and before the car overturned, Dick Thornton, with his arms -outspread, pitch forward and land with his face and half his body -buried in the earth. - -Nor did the firing cease in the place where he lay. - - - - -CHAPTER XX _A Girl’s Deed_ - - -It may be just as well that there are crises in human life when one -acts without thinking. - -So it was now with Barbara Meade. She did not consider her own danger, -nor perhaps the foolishness of her deed. All she saw was that Dick -Thornton was lying defenseless upon the ground with a rain of shrapnel -descending about him. - -It may have been that he was dead and that nothing could further injure -or aid him, but Barbara did not contemplate this. She did not cry for -help nor even turn back for a moment toward the hospital. Quick as a -flash, with the swift movement and decision characteristic of the girl, -she darted from her own place of comparative safety out into the open -field. - -The ambulance had overturned slowly so that one-half of it had sunk -down at the side, but in any case the wounded men were safer within -its covered walls than under the angry skies. - -It required only a few moments for the girl to reach the prostrate -figure of the American boy. He had not stirred after his fall, so -that Barbara instantly dropped down on her knees beside him and with -a nurse’s knowledge took hold of the limp hand that was lying in the -dust, to count the beating of his pulse. It was so faint she could -hardly be sure of it. - -She must find out his injury, and yet first he must be gotten to a -place of greater security. - -Curious that Barbara, who had been so fearful of the horrors of war, -should be so fearless now! But it did not occur to her that she was in -equal peril there by the body of her wounded friend. The gun fire which -might again strike him was equally apt to choose her for a victim. - -Indeed, the girl’s body partly covered that of the boy as she leaned -over him and seizing him firmly by the shoulders began dragging him -backwards. - -If they could get behind the partly overturned ambulance perhaps in a -little while the firing might cease in their neighborhood long enough -for the hospital staff to rescue them. - -Barbara set her teeth. If she had been weary a short while before -she had forgotten it now. But Dick was tall and heavy and she was so -stupidly, ridiculously small. However, Barbara made no effort to be -gentle. If Dick had been a log of wood that she had been forced to -bring to a certain spot she would have hauled it in much the same way. - -Yet once she believed she heard Dick groan and this was perhaps her one -consciously glad moment, for at least he was alive; before she had not -been altogether sure. - -But once behind the wagon, Barbara sat down and drew Dick’s head into -her lap. Gently she pushed the hair back from his face and then from a -little canteen she always carried poured a few drops of water between -his lips. He seemed to swallow them. She could see now that his right -shoulder had been struck and that his arm hung strangely at his side. -There might be other worse injuries, of course, but this one she could -discern. - -Then Barbara wiped the grime from her companion’s face with the white -linen cloths she had in her pocket. Only then did the tears start -to her eyes, because the blood which had been stopped by the dirt -encrusting it began to flow afresh. Dick also had a wound across his -face. It did not appear serious, but Barbara had suddenly thought of -Mrs. Thornton’s pride in Dick’s appearance and of what she would suffer -should she see him like this. The girl had a sudden, unreasonable -feeling of resentment against Dick himself. After all, what right had -he to risk his life in this horrible war? He was an American and owed -no duty to another country. - -The next instant Barbara realized her own absurdity. Was she not in her -way doing just what Dick had done, only of course far less nobly and -well? And after all, were not men and women fighting for the right, -brothers and sisters in the divinest sense? - -When Dick Thornton finally opened his eyes Barbara was crying in -earnest. It was ridiculous and utterly undignified of her. Here she had -done the bravest kind of deed quickly and efficiently, but now that she -should be showing all the calmness of a well-regulated trained nurse, -she had taken to weeping. - -Of course, Dick did not return at once to a full understanding of the -situation. For to Barbara’s credit it must be said that while she was -indulging in tears she was also bandaging Dick’s forehead with all -possible skill. It was perhaps the touch of her hands that had awakened -him. - -For a moment he gazed at the girl stupidly. But when her work was -finished and his head again rested quietly in her lap, Dick endeavored -to look about him. A movement made him faint with pain, yet he could -turn his eyes without stirring. Vaguely he saw the overturned ambulance -in front of them, heard faint moans on the inside. Then there was the -field. He recalled driving like mad across it and the explosion that -had plunged him out of the car. What had taken place was becoming -fairly clear except for the presence of his little western friend. -What on earth was Barbara Meade doing here in a desperately dangerous -situation? He remembered now having seen her assisting one of the -surgeons inside the hospital tent earlier in the day. At least he -believed he had seen her; there had been no moment then even for -thought. - -But what must he do now? - -“Barbara,” Dick began with surprising firmness, “you must get out of -this death trap at once. The Lord only knows how you got here! Some one -will look after us as soon as there is half a chance.” - -But Dick’s last words were lost. Over in the dust a few feet from the -place where he had first fallen a piece of broken shell fell with a -kind of shriek. Stone and earth shot up in the air like a geyser and -falling again partly covered the young man and Barbara and also the -white sides of the ambulance. - -“Don’t talk, Dick,” Barbara returned firmly. “You are right, some one -will look after us as soon as possible.” - -Perhaps another five minutes passed, perhaps half an hour; there is no -way of counting time in danger. Now and then a bullet or a piece of -shrapnel passed beyond them or sunk into the earth at no great distance -away. Dick again lost consciousness, Barbara remained almost equally -still. Whatever fate might send they must accept. - -But while Barbara Meade had given no thought to the nearness of the -relief hospital and the men and women at work there, when she had made -her swift rush to Dick Thornton’s aid, naturally the overturning of the -Red Cross ambulance had not gone long unobserved. - -As everyone except Barbara was at work at the moment of the actual -accident to the car, no one had seen her immediate action. However, -the noise of the explosions so close to them naturally attracted the -attention of the hospital staff. It was unusual, although it did happen -now and then, for the German firing to be directed toward a Red Cross -hospital. Perhaps it was intentional, perhaps a mistake had been made; -one could only accept the fact that war is war. - -Through a small telescope one of the hospital surgeons studied the -position of the overturned ambulance a short time after Barbara -succeeded in drawing Dick behind its shelter. Then he became aware that -one of their Red Cross nurses was also beside the ambulance. He could -distinctly see her uniform, even the Red Cross on her arm. - -The next moment he called Dr. Milton, who happened to be passing with -Nona Davis on their way to another case. - -You may remember that the accident had taken place between a quarter -and a half mile across the fields. - -Therefore it was not difficult when Nona’s turn came to look through -the telescope to recognize Barbara Meade. Dick she did not recognize, -but indeed she paid scant attention to the khaki figure on the ground. -Her interest was in her friend. - -As soon as possible six volunteers made their way to the ambulance. -Dick was carried safely back to the hospital and the two wounded men -inside the ambulance whom he had been trying to save. Barbara walked -beside them. - -A little later, when the firing in the neighborhood had entirely -ceased, the ambulance itself was righted and dragged back to the -hospital for repairs. Fortunately, the car itself had been little -injured. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI _An Unexpected Situation_ - - -Dick Thornton for a short time was desperately ill. - -He had, of course, been removed to the Sacred Heart Hospital as soon as -possible in order that his sister Mildred might be near him. But both -Mildred and Barbara helped with the nursing. - -It was considered wiser by the hospital authorities that Barbara should -not return immediately to her work with the Red Cross ambulance at the -front. She was more shaken by her experience than she herself realized, -or at least so her appearance suggested. No one, not even Mildred -Thornton, dreamed that a part of her pallor might be due to anxiety -for Dick. Nevertheless, Barbara went about her work at the hospital -looking spent and exhausted, yet she no longer flinched at anything she -was called upon to do. The greater tragedies she had lately seen had -taught her more self-control. - -Just at first Barbara was not aware of the change in the attitude of -the hospital staff toward her after her rescue of Dick Thornton. It had -seemed such a natural action to her she had not given it any thought. - -But Nona Davis had not seen it in the same light, nor had Dr. Milton -nor the other nurses and physicians near the battlefield. - -Everywhere there was talk of the valor and common sense of the young -American girl. Whether or not it was true, she was given the credit for -having saved Dick’s life. Had he remained unprotected a stray shot must -have done for him. - -Mildred made no effort to conceal her gratitude and affection for -Barbara, and even Lady Dorothy Mathers and Daisy Redmond, the two -English girls who at first had small faith in Barbara’s ability, were -now generously kind to her. Actually Lady Dorothy apologized for having -previously slighted her, while Alexina McIntyre gathered Barbara into -her capable arms. - -“You’re a wee thing, there is no denying it, but I’ve always believed -you had grit and now you have proved it.” - -So in course of time Barbara grew happier and stronger, though not, -as it turned out, until Dick was out of danger. The wound on his face -healed rapidly enough, but the trouble had been with his splintered -shoulder. He would hardly be useful at the front for some time to come. - -Nevertheless, though Barbara remained behind for the regular staff -nursing, Nona Davis continued in the ambulance service. The suggestion -was made that she be relieved by one of the other nurses, but Nona -preferred to make no change. For some reason she seemed peculiarly -fitted for the work at the front. It required a coolness and obedience -to orders that she was able to give. Her lack of long training did not -count so seriously against her, since she was always under a surgeon’s -orders. Moreover, her courage and devotion never appeared to falter. - -Often when she returned to the hospital at night Eugenia Peabody would -look at her in amazement. Could Nona be made of flesh and blood? She -seemed so slender and fragile and yet was like fine steel. The truth -was that all her life Nona had been accustomed to taking care of some -one, so that she thought far less of herself and her own sensations -than other girls of her age. Moreover, back of her stretched a long -line of cavalier ancestors, who have a peculiar quality of endurance -under conditions of war, whatever their weakness in times of peace. - -But really Nona was animated by none of these toploftical ideas; she -was merely doing the best she could in the place where she seemed most -needed. - -However, other persons besides Eugenia marveled at her. Now and then -when they were both free, Lady Dorian and Nona spent an hour or so -together. The older woman was assisting with the business affairs of -the hospital. An outsider can scarcely realize how much business there -is that must be wisely administered. So Lady Dorian spent her time -ordering supplies and watching over their disposal, but she made no -friends except with Nona. An air of mystery still clung like a tangible -atmosphere about her, and though the rest of the hospital staff were -aware of it and did not understand her presence among them, they were -too busy to give her much attention or thought. - -Yet Nona Davis frequently thought of her in her long journeys back and -forth. In spite of their increasing intimacy Lady Dorian had told her -nothing more of herself. She mentioned no details of her arrest in -London nor of the reasons the authorities had for finally releasing -her. So Nona could not help feeling a slight curiosity, although she -tried to smother it by scolding herself for her lack of good taste. -Certainly one should never wish to know anything of a friend’s life -except what the friend wishes to tell, and yet at times it is hard not -to desire the knowledge. - -However, Nona’s own affairs at this period should have been -sufficiently absorbing to have made her forget other people’s. The -soldiers she had helped to care for, the surgeons she was in the habit -of assisting, showed a peculiar affection and kindness for the young -southern girl. And Dr. Milton made no effort to disguise his devotion. - -At first when he discovered his own emotion the young English physician -had no intention of betraying himself. He had come to the war to do -his duty and not to give way to the ridiculous weakness of falling -in love. But Nona had proved too much for him. So far, however, he -had sufficient self-control not to have spoken of it to her. And -if he showed his feeling in other ways Nona gave no sign of having -understood, so the young surgeon had not been able to decide whether -she felt more than a passing friendliness for him. - -Nevertheless, he was glad one morning to be entrusted with a special -message which was to be given in person to Miss Nona Davis. - -An orderly had called at the temporary hospital near the British line -of trenches to say that Colonel Dalton would like to speak to Miss -Davis at his headquarters. - -Naturally Nona was surprised by the message. She knew, of course, that -after his recovery Colonel Dalton had returned to his command. There -was almost daily talk of him, as he was regarded as one of the most -capable officers at the front. But she had not seen him since the hour -of their conversation by his bedside. What could he possibly wish of -her? However, the interview was to take place a little before noon on -the same day and an officer would call to escort her into the presence -of his superior. - -Frankly other persons beside the girl were mystified by Colonel -Dalton’s command. He was not in the habit of paying any attention to -the Red Cross work or its workers. His reputation was that of a stern -disciplinarian, whom his men respected but did not always like. So when -Dr. Milton suggested that his intention might be to bestow some mark of -favor upon Miss Davis for her devotion to the soldiers, no one took the -idea seriously. Fortunately Nona did not even hear of it. - -Before noon, however, she was ready to do as she had been bidden. She -was waiting in the rear of the relief hospital when a young officer -in the uniform of a lieutenant of the South Lancastershire regiment, -riding one horse and leading another, drew up before her and dismounted. - -Almost without regarding him Nona allowed him to help her into the -saddle. Then they set off across country together, the young lieutenant -a little in the lead. The secret of an officer’s headquarters is -sometimes so carefully guarded that not even his own soldiers know its -exact location. - -Nona was not even particularly interested. She realized that she rode -about three-quarters of a mile and then stopped in front of what -appeared like an immense pile of brushwood. Behind it was a small -wooden building, evidently a temporary structure, and inside the -building, seated before a small pine table with a telephone receiver in -his hand, was Colonel Dalton. - -Here at last Nona became vitally interested. She had been told that -innumerable telephone wires, most of them underground, connected the -British officer’s quarters with the trenches at the front as well -as with the headquarters of other officers and with the different -positions of the field artillery. Here was certain proof of it. The -officers with the men in the trenches must take their commands from -their superiors who were in truth the “gods behind the machines.” - -The lieutenant saluted. Colonel Dalton returned the salute curtly. Nona -simply waited and watched. - -By and by Colonel Dalton put down the telephone receiver. - -“Be seated,” he said briefly, and Nona sat down on a wooden stool the -younger officer thrust toward her. She had no special sensation of awe; -she was seldom afraid of people except in social life. This was simply -a part of her day’s work. Nevertheless she wondered why Colonel Dalton -was frowning at her so severely. - -The same instant he took a bundle of papers from inside his pocket. - -“Sorry to trouble you with this, Miss Davis, but for the present you -seem the best person to get hold of. I remember our talk at the -hospital, and moreover, I’ve the impression you can answer questions -and keep your own counsel when it’s necessary. There is some ugly work -going on at the Sacred Heart Hospital. I’ve reason to believe that -there is a spy among the workers over there. Is there any one you can -think of who might be willing to give news of the British positions, -the amount of our ammunition and other facts to the enemy? Think -this over quietly and coolly. I promise you that no one will be held -responsible whose guilt is not plainly proved and also that whatever -you are willing to tell me will be kept in strictest confidence.” - -“But why do you think such a thing? How can you possibly imagine?” Nona -faltered, and then appreciated that this was not the manner in which to -address an officer. Colonel Dalton would not make such an accusation -without due proof of his suspicion. - -Nona had a dreadful sensation of horror and confusion. Surely Colonel -Dalton must be mistaken. Never were there a more devoted, more sincere -group of workers than the Red Cross nurses and physicians at the Sacred -Heart Hospital. That treason could dwell among them was out of the -question. Yet all the while the American girl was voicing this silent -protest in her own heart, automatically she was reviewing the name and -character of every member of their staff. There was no one, no one, who -could not be wholly trusted, whose family and whose history were not -open books. - -Then a face and figure passed before the girl’s vision and in a flash -she controlled the leaping of the hot blood to her cheeks. - -Nona looked directly at Colonel Dalton. - -“You have asked me a question I will not answer,” she returned quietly. -“I do not, of course, know whether you have the right to force me, but -I feel that I have no right to say a single word that would reflect on -any man or woman at our hospital. What I could tell you would amount to -nothing; it would only be guessing at best. For I have no actual reason -for being suspicious of any one.” - -“No _actual_ reason?” Colonel Dalton repeated. “Have you any reason at -all?” - -“No,” Nona returned. - -The Colonel glanced again at the papers in his hands. “Because you -were so kind as to nurse me at the Sacred Heart Hospital and because -I am aware of the noble work their nurses and doctors have been doing -for the wounded, I want no evil gossip to surround you. Do not mention -my errand, but say to your superintendent that I will call in person -to see her tomorrow evening. Perhaps you are right in not betraying -whomever it is you seem to suspect. Good-by.” - -Colonel Dalton again bowed his head, and as another officer had entered -the room to speak to him, Nona hurried out. - -The same lieutenant escorted her back to her starting point, but once -again Nona paid no attention to him. She was in a tumult of surprise, -apprehension and sorrow. A spy at the Sacred Heart Hospital, what -knowledge had Colonel Dalton to go upon? Yet he appeared convinced and -was too wise a man to accept a suspicion without proof. - -No intimate personal sorrow had ever disturbed Nona Davis more -seriously. Yet these were days when one could not give way. She must -continue with her work as if nothing had happened and Colonel Dalton -had commanded that she confide in no one. Yet if she could only speak -of his suspicion to one single person, perhaps her own fears might be -dissipated, or else, or else--here Nona scarcely faced her own thought. -Perhaps the telling might enable the offender to escape while there was -still opportunity. - -She was dazed and sick when her escort assisted her to alight for the -second time. Yet she had a vague sensation that his eyes were gazing at -her with a strange combination of amusement and sympathy. But of course -she must have been dreaming, because after she had walked several yards -away she thought she overheard him say, “Are you the gardener’s son?” -And really she had no right to believe the young officer had suddenly -lost his mind. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII _Recognition_ - - -Nona Davis delivered Colonel Dalton’s message to the superintendent of -the Sacred Heart Hospital. However, after second thought Colonel Dalton -also sent a letter explaining the circumstances more fully and asking -for a private meeting in order that a thorough investigation be made. - -A woman of about forty with a large experience of life, Miss Grey, -though deeply disturbed by the British officer’s suspicion, did not -allow herself to go to pieces over it. She knew that they were living -in the heat and turmoil of the most terrible war in history, where -every day thousands of men and women were willing to give their lives -to afford the slightest aid to their country. Everywhere there had been -stories of spies and oftentimes many of them were the last persons to -be suspected. It was dreadful to learn that a spy had crept within the -shelter of the Sacred Heart Hospital, and yet there was no reason why -one place should be spared more than another. - -So very quietly Miss Grey set to work to study possibilities for -herself, in order that she might be able later to assist Colonel -Dalton in his effort to unearth the guilty person. She knew the name -and something of the past history of every individual on her hospital -staff, including both the outside and inside servants. This, owing to -the conditions of war, she had considered a part of her duty. Indeed, -she kept a small book in which their names, previous addresses and -occupations were carefully registered and the Red Cross nurses had also -presented their nursing certificates with a brief outline of their -circumstances. - -So without discussing the situation with any one else seriously, Miss -Grey studied the contents of this little volume, intending to hand it -to Colonel Dalton as soon as they met. - -Without the least sense of prejudice she found herself most interested -in the latest arrivals at the hospital. Of course, there was as yet no -reason, so far as she knew, why one person should be suspected beyond -another. The spy may have been in their midst many months waiting the -opportunity for betrayal. Nevertheless, as the discovery of treachery -was so recent, it was natural for her to guess that the evildoer was a -comparatively new member of their staff. - -The newcomers chanced to be the eight new nurses, four of them American -and four British, who had begun work about two months before, and Lady -Dorian, who was the last arrival. - -Just as Nona had felt a sudden chill at the thought of Lady Dorian’s -painful experience and her evident wish not to talk of herself, so Miss -Grey frowned and flushed when she came upon her name in the hospital -biography. - -Had the authorities been wise in accepting Lady Dorian’s presence among -them and the very generous gifts she had made so soon after her trial -in London? It was true that nothing had then been proven against -her and so very probably she had naught to do with the attempted -destruction of the ship upon which she had chanced to be a passenger. -However, it might have been the better part of valor to have regarded -Lady Dorian with possible scepticism, more especially as so little was -known of her previous history. - -Yet with no facts at her disposal Miss Grey took the only wise course, -she reserved judgment. - -Thirty-six hours later, just after dusk, Colonel Dalton, accompanied -by the lieutenant who was one of his aides, rode up to the Sacred -Heart Hospital. He went straight into the business office of the -superintendent, where he spent half an hour with Miss Grey, Mrs. Payne -and other persons in positions of trust. - -At the close of that time a command was issued, asking the surgeons, -nurses and servants in relays of eight or ten to come into the office -in order that Colonel Dalton might question them. No one, of course, -except Nona Davis, had any conception of why a British officer should -be devoting his valuable time to interviewing the members of a hospital -staff for any purpose whatsoever. - -But by chance Eugenia, Mildred, Barbara and Nona, Lady Mathers, Alexina -McIntyre and Lady Dorian made one of the latest groups. It was not by -chance, however, that Nona went first to Lady Dorian’s tiny room at -the top of the tallest tower and asked that they might go downstairs -together. - -To the girl’s horror Lady Dorian absolutely refused to accompany her. - -She was sitting by a window with only a lighted taper in the room, -apparently nervous and unhappy. - -“Please present my respects to Commander Dalton,” she said, “and say -that as I am not well it will be impossible for me to see him.” Lady -Dorian spoke so quietly, as if there were no question of her wish not -being respected, that Nona was frightened. - -“But you _must_ come, please,” the younger girl urged. “I am afraid you -don’t realize how important it is that all of us be present. Don’t you -appreciate that whatever reason Colonel Dalton may have for talking -with us, it would not look well for any one of us to refuse to be -interviewed?” - -But Nona’s arguments and persuasions proved of no avail. Finally she -had to go down to the office with the others, leaving Lady Dorian in -her own room. - -Nevertheless Nona did not dare repeat aloud the message her friend had -given her. She only whispered its substance confusedly in Miss Grey’s -ear and the next moment the superintendent left the room. - -No one of the four American Red Cross girls nor any one else present -ever forgot the next quarter of an hour. - -Colonel Dalton was intensely angry. He considered that he was not -doing the work of a soldier and only his interest in the Sacred Heart -Hospital induced him to conduct an inquiry of such a nature. However, -the traitor had to be discovered and at once. - -In his hand he held the bunch of papers which Nona recognized as the -same he had in his conversation with her. Also she recognized the -lieutenant as the young officer who had previously escorted her and who -had made such an extraordinary speech at their moment of parting. - -However, Colonel Dalton was only beginning his cross-examination of the -latest comers when the door of the office again opened and Miss Grey -entered accompanied by Lady Dorian. - -Nona gave a little gasp of relief and dismay. For never had she seen -any one look so ill and wretched as Lady Dorian. She was plainly making -every effort to keep her face averted from the gaze of the older man, -who was sitting in a chair beside a small table. - -But Nona was the more amazed when she turned to see what impression -had been made upon Colonel Dalton. Disturbed by the opening of the -door, he had glanced up. Now his face was no longer crimson from anger -and outdoor exposure, but white and drawn, and his eyes expressed -extraordinary surprise and discomfort. - -For a moment his lips moved without making a sound, but the next he had -assumed his former military bearing. - -“In the past few weeks letters have been mailed from this hospital, -supposedly addressed to a newspaper in New York City for publication, -but in reality exposing the secrets of the British army in this -neighborhood to our enemy,” he began. “It should not be difficult for -some one on this staff to tell me who posted these letters and where -the information they contain was obtained.” The officer then struck the -table harshly with the papers in his hand. “One of these letters got -through the post, the others are in my possession, so there will be -little chance for the informant to escape. Has any one a suggestion as -to who the man or woman may be?” - -At the question had all the persons in the room been spies they could -scarcely have appeared more miserable and guilty. Moreover, for a -moment no one attempted to reply. - -Presently Mildred Thornton walked over to the table. - -Mildred was not handsome, yet at this moment her dignity, her -refinement and more than that, her look of intelligence which was like -her distinguished father’s, had never been more apparent. - -“Will you show me the letters you speak of, Colonel Dalton?” she asked -in a low tone. - -The officer appeared to hesitate, but after a careful study of the girl -he gave the letters into her hands. - -Near them was a lamp on the table and Mildred stooped as she went -rapidly through the papers. Then she straightened up and her lips were -like chalk. - -“I mailed the letters,” she said distinctly. “But listen to me for a -moment while I explain, then I’m ready to take whatever punishment I -deserve.” - -There was a complete silence. Mildred spoke very calmly, very proudly; -nevertheless, no one of her three American friends believed her. -Mildred’s statement was so incredible, she must have lost her senses. -Instinctively Barbara started forward to protest, but both Eugenia and -Nona held on to her. - -“Wait until she has spoken,” Eugenia ordered. - -Colonel Dalton himself did not appear particularly convinced. A spy was -not apt to proclaim guilt with so little pressure. Yet the young woman -looked as if she had brains. - -“A young man and his mother have been staying in this neighborhood -almost ever since our arrival,” Mildred began. “Brooks Curtis, the -man called himself. We met him on board the steamer coming over to -England and he told me that he was a newspaper correspondent and -meant to report the war. I don’t know anything else about him, but I -liked him, although my friends did not.” Here Mildred flushed and her -hands trembled, yet she went on bravely. “Mrs. Curtis settled in the -neighborhood in one of the peasants’ cottages and I used to see her -nearly every week and now and then her son. One day Mr. Curtis told me -he was having difficulty in mailing his letters to his New York paper -and asked me to mail them for him. Also he asked me not to mention the -fact. I was very stupid, I was worse than stupid, but of course I did -not dream of what I was really doing. Still, I feel that I deserve -imprisonment or punishment of some kind. I came to Europe to try to be -of service to the soldiers and I’ve brought them misfortune.” The girl -for the moment could say nothing more. But then everybody in the room -was equally aghast, Mildred’s explanation was so astounding and at the -same time so simple. - -“Is there a way of getting hold of this young man to find out if your -story is true?” Colonel Dalton demanded. - -And this time Nona and Barbara answered together. “Mrs. Curtis could be -found at the home of Mère Marie and Anton. From her one might obtain -information concerning her son.” - -A moment later the two girls and the lieutenant were on their way to -the hut of Mère Marie. A little later they returned with the news that -Mrs. Curtis had disappeared the day before and the old peasant woman -had no knowledge of her whereabouts. - -But during their absence Colonel Dalton and Mildred had a long talk -together, so the girl herself was able to convince him. He was very -severe, he could find little excuse for her foolishness; nevertheless, -recognizing at the end Mildred’s innocence and utter inexperience -of life, he assured her that she need fear no penalty. The British -Government, however, would seek to find the young man calling himself -Brooks Curtis, and on his arrest she would be expected to appear. - -Finally Mildred was allowed to go up to her room and Barbara and -Eugenia went with her. Lady Mathers and Alexina wandered off to express -their opinions on the situation. - -So by accident Nona Davis was left for a moment standing in the hall -with the young English lieutenant. She had seen him several times -lately, it was true, and yet she was annoyed at this moment to find him -smiling at her in a surprisingly friendly fashion. - -From the single rose bush in front of Mère Marie’s cottage even in the -darkness he had plucked a rose. Now he extended the rose to Nona. - -“Have all Americans poor memories?” he asked. “Or is it because you -wish to forget? Once upon a time there was a young man asleep in an -English garden and lifting his eyes he saw a fairy princess standing -over him with a rose in her dress as yellow as her hair.” - -Nona blushed delightfully. “You mean,” she said, “that you are the -gardener’s son? Then you are well and back at your post again? I’m so -glad.” - -Her companion nodded. “I am a son of Adam.” - -But at this moment Colonel Dalton, Miss Grey and Lady Dorian made their -appearance and the young officer turned to salute his superior. - -Miss Grey accompanied them to the door, leaving Nona and Lady Dorian -alone. - -Impulsively the younger girl kissed her friend. “I am so happy,” she -whispered. - -Lady Dorian walked away with her. “I understand, dear,” she returned. -“The truth is Colonel Dalton and I knew each other very intimately in -the past and I felt it might be pleasanter for us not to meet again. -Naturally I did not dream of the seriousness of his errand. Some day I -may tell you the whole story; now good night.” - -Nona went on upstairs without replying and the next hour the three -girls devoted to trying to console Mildred Thornton. - -It was Barbara’s conviction that they would some day meet Brooks Curtis -again. Then Mildred could repay his deceit by surrendering him to the -British authorities. But Mildred had no wish to find the young man. If -only he did no further harm to the Allies she wished that she might -never see or hear of him again. - -And the girls did not hear. Several months passed by and each day found -them more and more absorbed in their Red Cross work. - -Nona Davis did not mention Lady Dorian’s confidence. However, there was -little she _could_ tell. The older woman had simply explained that she -had spent several years in England, where she and Colonel Dalton had -known each other intimately. - -But there was too much for the Red Cross Girls to do, they were living -too full lives themselves to give more than passing thoughts to other -persons. - -When Dick Thornton had in a measure recovered he returned to London. - -So the early part of the winter vanished. Now and then there came a -lull in the fighting between the armies of northern France. Afterwards -it would break out again with greater violence. - -Finally the climax came. - -By chance Nona and Barbara, who had again joined the ambulance corps, -first brought the news to the Sacred Heart Hospital. The order had come -from Colonel Dalton. Later it was delivered in person by Lieutenant -Hume. - -The Sacred Heart Hospital must be abandoned. Having forced the British -line for several miles, the Germans were now dangerously near. If the -hospital wished to protect its wounded, to save supplies, to safeguard -its workers, their present habitation must be abandoned. - -No army ever moved its encampment with greater efficiency. In between -their periods of nursing the four American girls assisted with the -packing. No one of them ever forgot the experience. Yet at the last -there was a sudden rush. The enemy was reported advancing before -another refuge could be found for the Sacred Heart staff. Wounded -soldiers had to be transported in half a dozen directions wherever a -spot could be found for them. At the time there was no place for so -many extra nurses. - -It was Eugenia Peabody who finally made the suggestion to Miss Grey. -She proposed that she and her three friends should find a retreat for -themselves, and there await orders. It would relieve so much of the -Superintendent’s responsibility. - -So one afternoon the four American girls were hurried away in one of -the army motors to the nearest railroad station in a zone of safety. - -The next morning, in a little less than a year after their arrival in -Europe, they found themselves in a small French city. - -A few days after Nona Davis suggested that they offer their services -to the French Red Cross. Having come abroad to serve the Allies, it -was natural they should wish to care for the wounded soldiers of the -different nationalities. - - * * * * * - -This first volume in the American Red Cross series can, of course, -only begin to tell the adventures and experiences of the four American -girls, who, forgetful of self, offered their services to the wounded -soldiers in the war. The stories of their lives and the friends they -gather around them will be continued in the next book in the series, to -be known as “The Red Cross Girls on the French Firing Line.” - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Punctuation has been made consistent. - -Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in -the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have -been corrected. - -The following change was made: - -p. 187: Captain changed to Colonel (that Colonel Dalton) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Cross Girls in the British -Trenches, by Margaret Vandercook - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RED CROSS GIRLS IN BRITISH TRENCHES *** - -***** This file should be named 60154-0.txt or 60154-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/1/5/60154/ - -Produced by Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (Images -courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University -(http://digital.library.villanova.edu/)) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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