GRACE WINS AND IS SORRY
The general saluted and stepped away, and in a moment or so a squad of
soldiers ran to the car.
“All hands out, please,” called Grace. “No need to have them lift us
with the car.”
Up to this time J. Elfreda had not dared permit herself to catch
Grace’s eye, knowing very well that were she to do so she would laugh.
Perhaps “Captain” Grace was of the same opinion regarding her own
emotions, so she avoided Elfreda’s eyes. The men quickly boosted the
car back into the road.
“Take the wheel and make a fresh start, Elfreda,” directed Grace, after
thanking the doughboys.
“I beg most respectfully to be excused. Mrs. Smythe, I ask to be
relieved from driving. An empty road and a wide one is the only safe
place for me to experiment. May I turn the wheel over to Mrs. Gray?”
The supervisor half nodded. She was dazed, at least she appeared to be
so, and had not a word to say. At least two of her companions in the
car found themselves wondering what her thoughts were at that moment.
After a little Elfreda ventured to speak.
“How wide and expansive the morning is,” she observed.
“Very,” agreed Grace. “I don’t know what you are talking about, but I
agree with you.”
A great silence hovered over the army automobile, so far as the rear
seat was concerned, though eventually Grace and Elfreda fell to
discussing army matters of a general nature. At noon they halted for
mess, then proceeded on at slow speed, for they were close up to the
engineers, who were following the advance column to examine roads for
mines and repair them where necessary.
Thus far not a gun had been fired, though at any moment a blast was
looked for by every one in the Third Army. Airplanes were constantly
buzzing overhead, observation balloons were continuously on watch in
the skies, and every precaution was being taken to guard against a
surprise. That night their bedroom again was in a cellar, and once more
Won Lue brought them fagots and water.
They had left Mrs. Chadsey Smythe at the cellar that had been assigned
to her. Miss Cahill arrived at about the same time on an army truck
and shared the cellar with Madame, Miss O’Leary and the maid, Marie
Debussy.
“Grace Harlowe, I take off my hat to you,” Elfreda exclaimed, throwing
off her cap and blouse. “Chad got her deserts that time, but, woman,
look out for her. Revenge is as sweet to her as it is to you.”
“Revenge is not sweet to me,” objected Grace. “I am so sorry that I
turned the tables on her as I did, but it was an opportunity that I
could not miss. At least it served one useful purpose; Madame did not
speak to me all the rest of the day. What a heavenly relief. Do you
suppose the general knew who she was?”
“He may have known who she was, but I do not believe he understood that
she was the woman to whom you referred. I hope the general doesn’t find
out that he was abusing the woman to her face,” Elfreda chuckled.
“He will learn it the first time I see him. I feel that I did an
inexcusable thing in drawing him into the muss as I did. I am always
doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.”
“It is war,” reminded Elfreda. “Ah! Here comes our friend the Chinaman.
Good evening, Won. What is it?”
“Plenty fline apple,” he answered, emptying out full two quarts of red
apples from a gas mask bag.
“Oh, isn’t that fine,” glowed Elfreda. “I haven’t had an apple since I
left America. Grace, what do you think of that?”
“I think Won must have found an orchard in a cellar somewhere. Thank
you ever so much. Why do you do so many nice things for us?”
“Nicee lady, a-la. Missie see nicee birdie fly fly away?” Won
accompanied the words with a wink and knowing smirk.
“What do you mean?” demanded Grace, regarding him narrowly.
For answer Won formed a spiral in the air with one hand, raising the
hand a little higher with each circle, then sending the hand flitting
through the air in imitation of a bird’s flight.
Grace caught the meaning instantly.
“Oh, you mean a bird?”
“Les. Plidgin bird. Him fly, a-la. Missie see plidgin fly.”
“Did you see it, Won?”
“Me savvy. Me see.”
“Do you know where they came from, where they were going or who sent
them? Understand me?”
“Not know. Plenty blad man. Mebby Chinaman blad man.”
“Why do you tell me, then?”
“Missie no like blad man, no likee plidgin go so,” pointing to the
east.
“Thank you. I understand. You must keep watch, Won, and let me know who
is making the ‘plidgin fly-fly.’”
Won nodded and chuckled, then shaking hands with himself, trotted away
without another word.
“What was that wild heathen talking about?” demanded Elfreda. “You
appeared to understand perfectly what he was getting at, but I couldn’t
make a single thing out of it.”
“He was trying to convey to me that something bad is going on in the
Third Army.”
“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.