_St. Gudula_
Several weeks later Barbara Meade walked down the steps of a house in
Brussels out into one of the streets near the Palais de la Nation. The
house had once been a private residence, but since the coming of war
into the heart of Belgium had been turned into a relief hospital by the
American Red Cross Society.
Barbara walked slowly, looking at all the objects of interest along the
way. She wore a dark-blue taffeta suit and white blouse and a small blue
hat with a single white wing in it.
Evidently she was not in a hurry. Indeed, she behaved more like an
ordinary tourist than an overworked nurse. Yet a glance into Barbara's
face would have suggested that she was dreadfully fagged and anxious to
get away from the beaten track for a few hours. It chanced to be her
one afternoon of leisure in the week, so for the time she had discarded
her nurse's uniform. She was also trying to forget the trouble
surrounding her and to appreciate the beauty and charm of Brussels.
Yet Barbara found it difficult to get into a mood of real enjoyment.
These past few weeks represented the hardest work she had yet done, for
the funds for the Belgian Relief work were getting painfully low.
Therefore, as there were still so many demands, the workers could only
try to do double duty.
Finally Barbara entered the church of St. Gudula, which happened to be
near at hand. It was a beautiful Gothic building, dedicated to the
patron saint of Brussels. Once inside, the girl strolled quietly about,
feeling herself already rested and calmed from the simple beauty of the
interior. The tall rounded pillars and sixteenth century stained glass
represented a new world of color and beauty. Although she was not a
Catholic, Barbara could not refrain from saying a short prayer in the
"Chapel of Notre-Dame-de-Deliverance" for the safety of the Belgian
people and their gallant king and queen. Barbara was too loyal an
American to believe that kings and queens were any longer useful as the
heads of governments. Nevertheless, as a noble man and woman, King
Albert and Queen Elizabeth of Belgium, commanded her admiration and
sympathy. Since the outbreak of the war neither of them seem to have
given thought to their royalty, remembering only their common humanity
with the people of their land.
Already comforted by the few minutes of quiet, finally Barbara slipped
out of one of the side doors that chanced to be open. Afterwards she
stood looking about her in order to find out just where she was.
The side street was almost entirely free from passers by. Therefore, as
Barbara desired to inquire her way to the nearest tram line, she waited
for a moment. At some distance down the street she could see the figure
of a man walking in her direction.
She did not look very closely or she might have discovered something
familiar in the quick stride and the graceful carriage of the head and
shoulders. The men of Brussels are rather more French than Flemish in
their appearance, yet this man did not resemble a foreigner.
Indeed, he walked so much more rapidly than Barbara expected that she
was extremely startled when a voice said close beside her:
"Why, Barbara, this is good luck. To think I have not seen you since the
first afternoon of my arrival! I'm sorry you have been so tremendously
busy every time I have had a chance to run into the hospital for a few
moments. But Mildred and Nona have given me news of you."
Dick Thornton had taken Barbara's hand and was looking searchingly into
her face. But after her first recognition of him she had dropped her
lids, so it was not possible to see her eyes.
"I have just been up to your hospital now, but could not get hold of
either Mildred or Nona. I am sorry. Nona had promised me, if she could
be spared, to spend the afternoon seeing sights. I have investigated
thirty destitute Belgian families since eight o'clock this morning and
reported their cases, so I feel rather in the need of being cheered."
Barbara's chin quivered a little, although it was not perceptible to her
companion.
"I am dreadfully sorry too," she answered the next instant. "Certainly
you are deserving of Nona's society for a reward. And if I had only
known your plan you might have carried it out. It is my afternoon of
freedom, but I would very cheerfully have changed my time with Nona."
"You are awfully kind, I am sure," Dick returned. But he scarcely showed
the gratitude at Barbara's suggestion that she expected.
He glanced up at the beautiful Gothic tower of the church near them,
remarking irritably, "I expect you are quite as much in need of a rest
as any one else. Really, Barbara, it is all very well to do the best one
can to help these unfortunate people, but there is no especial point in
killing yourself. You look wretchedly. You are not trying to play at
being the patron saint of Brussels, are you? Is that why you haunt the
church of Saint Gudula?"
Barbara smiled. "I am the farthest person from a saint in this world,"
she replied, wrinkling up her small nose with a faint return to her old
self. "Nona and Mildred and I have decided recently that we haven't but
one saint among us. And she is the last person I should ever have
awarded the crown at our first meeting. Moreover, I wouldn't dare
present it to her now, if she could see or hear me in the act. She would
probably destroy me utterly, because my saint is very human and
sometimes has a dreadful temper, besides a desire to boss everybody
else. I wonder if real saints ever had such traits of character? Of
course, you know I mean Eugenia! I am on my way now to her Hotel des
Enfants, if I can ever find the right street car. She already is taking
care of twelve children, and I have never seen her nor her house since
we separated. Gene has promised to send some one to meet me at the end
of the car line. Her house is a deserted old place where a ghost is
supposed to hold forth. But I am assured the ghost has not turned up
recently. It is nice to have met you. Good-by." And Barbara was
compelled to stop talking for lack of breath after her long speech, as
she held out her hand. Dick ignored the outstretched hand. His face had
assumed a charming, boyish expression of pleading. Barbara was reminded
of the first days of their meeting in New York City.
"I say, Barbara, why can't I go along with you?" he demanded. "Of
course, I realize that for some reason or other you are down upon me. I
am not such a chump as not to understand you could have seen me for a
few minutes in these last few weeks if you had tried. But Eugenia is
friendly enough. I haven't seen her, but I had a stunning note from her.
Besides, as I sent her five of her twelve Belgian babies, I think I've
the right to find out if she is being good to them. I am a kind of a
godfather to the bunch. Let's stop by a shop and get some stuffed dolls
and whistles and sugar plums. Some of the Belgian children I have
discovered seemed to be forgetting how to play."
Barbara had not answered. Indeed, Dick had not intended to give her a
chance. Nevertheless, her expression had changed to a measure of its
former brightness. It would be good fun to have Dick on the afternoon's
excursion! She had rather dreaded the journey alone into a strange part
of the countryside, one might so easily get lost. Beside, Barbara knew
in her heart of hearts that she had absolutely no right for her
unfriendly attitude toward Dick Thornton. If he had chosen to treat her
with less intimacy than in the beginning of their acquaintance, that was
his own affair. If he now preferred Nona to her--well, he only showed a
better judgment in desiring the finer girl.
Barbara now put her hand in a friendly fashion on Dick's sleeve.
"I am awfully glad to have you come along and I am sure Gene will be,"
she answered happily. "Lead on, Sir Knight, to the nearest street car."
After an hour's ride into the country, through one of Belgium's
suburbs, Dick and Barbara arrived at a tumble-down shed. Eugenia had
carefully described this shed as their first destination.
Not far off they found Bibo waiting for them with a rickety old wagon
and an ancient horse. Money and Eugenia's determined character had
secured the forlorn equipage. For it was difficult to buy any kind of
horse or wagon in these war days.
However, the small driver, who was the boy Eugenia had rescued some
weeks before, drove with all the pomp of the king's coachman. That is,
he allowed the old horse to pick her way along a grass-grown path for
about a mile. Then he invited his two passengers to get down, as there
was no road up to the old house that a horse and wagon could travel.
So Dick and Barbara found themselves for the first time in their
acquaintance wandering along a country lane together. Their position was
not very romantic, however. Barbara led the way along the same narrow
avenue that Eugenia had followed on the day of her first visit to the
supposedly deserted place.
Yet although Barbara almost ran along in her eagerness to arrive, Dick
noticed that she looked very thin. She was not the Barbara of his first
acquaintance; something had changed her. Well, one could hardly go
through the experiences of this war without changing, even if one were
only an outsider. And Dick Thornton glanced at his own useless arm with
a tightening of his lips. He probably owed his life to the little girl
ahead of him.
Eugenia did not at first see her guests approaching until they had
discovered her. She was in the front yard and the grass had been cut, so
that there was a broad cleared space. Moreover, every window of the
supposedly haunted house was thrown wide open, so that the sun and air
poured in.
It was as little like either a deserted or a haunted house as one could
humanly imagine. For there were eight or ten children at this moment in
the yard with Eugenia. She held a baby in her arms and a small boy stood
close beside her.
Barbara saw the little fellow at the same moment she recognized her
friend. Instantly she decided that he was the most exquisite child she
had ever seen in her life. The boy was like a small prince, although he
wore only the blue cotton overalls and light shirt such as the other
boys wore.
But he must have said something to Eugenia, for she glanced up and then
ran forward to meet her guests. The baby she dumped hastily into her
discarded chair.
"But I thought I was to be your guest of honor, Gene?" Barbara protested
a few moments later. "Never should I have allowed Dick to come if I had
dreamed he was to put me in the shade so completely."
Eugenia laughed. Her new responsibilities did not appear to have
overburdened her.
"Come and meet my family," she insisted. "There was an old woman who
lived in a shoe, who had so many children she didn't know what to do."