“What is the something?”
“Perhaps I shall be able to tell you about that later. Won is a wise Chinaman. He knew that I knew something was going on and wished to let me know he was on our side. I don’t believe many of the Orientals in the labor battalion are in the same class with our friend. To change the subject, do you know I feel sorry for that poor little Marie Debussy. The half dumb way she looks at you is almost heart-breaking. Mrs. Smythe must make her life miserable. When we get to the Rhine we must try to do something for the girl. Did you observe that Miss Cahill came through on a camion to-day?”
“Yes, I observed it.”
“Mrs. Smythe evidently did not propose to be so crowded.”
“No, she wished to be free to jump if you hit another bridge,” declared Elfreda.
Supper was attended with the same smoke-screen as had happened at the meal of the previous evening, but they enjoyed their mess and chatted and teased each other until it was time to turn in.
Grace was up at daybreak again, but did not awaken her companion. The morning was very chill, but the air was clear, and Grace with her binoculars surveyed the surrounding country as well as she could in the half light of the early morning, appearing to be especially interested in every clump of trees within the range of her vision.
Day was just dawning when she discovered that of which she was in search, a pigeon rising into the air from a field quite a distance to the southward. As on the previous occasion the pigeon flew east, and was followed at regular intervals by two others.
There could be no doubt about it now. War pigeons were being sent toward the enemy country, though Grace was not at all certain that it was enemy agents who were doing the sending. In any event it was a matter that should be reported, which the Overton girl determined to do that very day.
Without saying anything to her companion of what she had observed, Grace ate her breakfast, and asking Elfreda to clean up and pack up, set out for Mrs. Smythe’s headquarters. The supervisor was just eating her breakfast. Her face flushed as she saw who her visitor was, but she spoke no word, merely stared.
“I have come, Mrs. Smythe, for two reasons; first, to ask what your orders are for the day; secondly, to tell you I am sorry that I gave way to my inclinations yesterday and related the story of our trouble to the general. I ordinarily fight my own battles. You must admit, however, that I had very excellent reasons for feeling as I did toward you.”
“You insulted and humiliated me!” cried the supervisor, suddenly finding speech.
“And you also have insulted and humiliated me,” replied Grace. “It is my feeling that you were well entitled to all that you received, but my regret is that I permitted myself to be the instrument of the rebuke. You are my superior. I am at all times ready to take and obey any reasonable orders that you may give me. However, we must understand each other. My self-respect will not permit me to remain silent under such tongue-lashings as you have been indulging in. It must cease, Mrs. Smythe!”
“You – you are telling me, your commanding officer, what I must do?” demanded the woman, exercising more than ordinary self-restraint.
“No, not that, Mrs. Smythe. What I am seeking to do is to convince you that it will not be advisable for the peace of mind of either of us for you to continue your unkind treatment of me.”
“And, in the event that I decide to do as I please in all matters relating to your official duties, what then?”
Grace shrugged her shoulders.
“Attention!”
Grace smiled sweetly.
“The regulations do not require me to salute a superior when that superior is seated, without head covering and with blouse unbuttoned. Neither do the regulations require that I shall come to attention in such circumstances. This is not an official call and I do not expect you to receive me as such, therefore you must expect no more of me. I am here as woman to woman to ask that you treat me like a human being, and then to ask your forgiveness for my questionable revenge of to-day. Even the Huns have signed an armistice and agreed to cease fighting. Surely you and I as good Americans should be able to settle our differences by declaring an armistice; and you may rest assured that I shall do my part toward preserving the peace. What are your feelings on the matter and your orders for the day, please?”
“Driver, my feelings are my own. You came here with the deliberate intention of further insulting me.”
“I am sincerely sorry that you look at it in that light. I know you will not feel that way after you have thought over what I have said.”
“Have you anything further to say, driver? If so, say it and have done, for it will be your last opportunity.”
“Only to ask again for orders, Mrs. Smythe,” replied Grace sweetly.
“My orders are that you get out of my sight instantly!” The supervisor rose, buttoned her blouse to the throat and put on her cap. “Go!” she commanded, pointing to the cellar opening.
Grace Harlowe clicked her heels together and snapped into a salute, then executing a right-about, marched from the cellar and back to her own headquarters under a ruined cottage.
CHAPTER VI
MESSING WITH A BRIGADIER
“THE car has gone?”
“Yes, Mrs. Gray. One of our men drivers took it out under orders this morning,” the sergeant informed her.
“Whose orders?”
“Captain Grant’s.”
“No provision then has been made for a car for me?” questioned Grace.
“Not that I am aware of. Sorry, but I can’t help it. It’s orders.”
“I understand, Sergeant. I think a hike will do myself and my friend good.”
“Would you ride on a truck?”
“Of course if necessary, but I think we prefer to walk, thank you. I always did enjoy hiking. You don’t know whether or not the car has gone on?”
“It went on less than five minutes before you came out. Four women in it, the same ones you carried before.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. May I offer you a package of cigarettes?”
He said she might, and thanked her, a broad grin on his face.
“The old party hasn’t passed out a thing since we started,” he informed her.
“I know it. She informs me that none will be distributed from the canteen until we reach the Rhine. Thank you very much for your kindness.” Grace returned to their cellar, where she found Elfreda awaiting her with more or less impatience. Their mess kits and other supplies were packed.
“Where is the car? I didn’t hear you drive up,” questioned Miss Briggs.
“Mrs. Chadsey Smythe took the car and a soldier driver, and went on, I am informed.”
“What?”
“You and I are going to enjoy a lovely twelve-mile walk this morning, and I know it will do us a world of good. We have been riding too much since we came over here.”
“I call that an outrage!” expostulated J. Elfreda. “What about all this stuff?”
“We will carry our own kits. Our bags and what little government property we have here we will try to get on a truck. The rest will be easy. I had an interview with Madame in her cellar this morning. I tried to come to an amicable settlement of our difficulties, but she threatened me and drove me out. It is quite evident that General Gordon has not taken action, as he said he would. However, I feel that we are going to be all right and that we shall arrive at the Rhine flying high.”
“Tell me about it,” urged Elfreda.
Grace did so, her companion listening with narrowed eyes.
“This passes