Peace
In spite of Miss Patricia Lord’s many kindnesses, had one been spending
this particular afternoon with her, as Sally Ashton had voluntarily
chosen to do, she would not have appeared in a benevolent light.
Miss Patricia was fatigued, both from her excursion into town and from
the excitement of the scene she had just beheld. She was also bent upon a
disagreeable errand, having chosen this afternoon to find out why the
supplies she had ordered from the United States months before to aid in
the relief work in one of the devastated Aisne districts had not been
heard from.
To more than one of the French officials, whom she interviewed, Miss
Patricia openly declared that she believed her supplies had arrived, but
were being purposely kept from her.
Unfortunately Sally Ashton had not inquired what Miss Patricia’s quest
was to be upon this afternoon, when she had chosen her companionship in
preference to the Camp Fire girls. It was one of a number of bonds
between Sally and Miss Patricia that they seldom annoyed each other with
questions. Since their retreat to Paris from their farmhouse, Sally
considered that the other members of her present family had spent too
much of their time and energy in unnecessary interrogation of her. It was
useless to protest that there was no secret reason for the change which
they persisted in discovering in her. Once before, under pressure of
circumstances, she had kept her own counsel, hence the impression that
she was probably doing the same thing a second time.
On this winter afternoon Sally at first followed Miss Patricia upon her
warlike errand with patience and good humor.
Whenever it was possible they walked to their destinations, Miss Patricia
both abhoring and fearing the reckless driving of the ordinary Parisian
cabman.
At one or two places, in spite of her determination not to be drawn into
Miss Patricia’s difficulties, Sally found herself obliged to explain to
the clerks from just what grievance the irate American spinster was
suffering. Miss Patricia delivered her harangues in English regardless of
the fact that the French clerks were oftentimes unable to understand a
word of what she was saying.
However, during one of these interviews, when Miss Patricia was
expressing herself with especial violence and Sally vainly struggling to
quiet her, they chanced upon an official who not only understood Miss
Patricia’s language, but appreciated the essential goodness of the woman
herself. After all Miss Patricia’s anger was due to the fact that she
believed the French children and old people in her chosen district on the
Aisne were suffering for just the supplies she had ordered for their
relief. Her resentment was not occasioned by any personal discomfort.
The French official explained to Miss Patricia that if she would kindly
drive to a freight office at some distance away and show her bill of
lading, there was a possibility they could tell her whether or not her
shipment from the United States had ever reached France.
On this excursion Sally positively declined to walk. Moreover, it was
growing late and Miss Patricia was herself obliged to acknowledge that
the distance was too great. They therefore secured a cab in which Miss
Patricia agreed that she was willing to risk her own life, although
reluctant to trust Sally’s.
Finally, after a little uncertainty on the part of their driver they
reached the desired office.
Here, Miss Patricia found some one who appeared willing to listen, first
to her complaints, and then to make the necessary effort to help her out
of her difficulty.
But this effort, Sally Ashton soon discovered, was to require some time.
She was now feeling a little exhausted, the air in the express office was
heavy and filled with strange odors, the office which was near the Seine
was in a crowded down-town section of the city.
Sally touched Miss Patricia on the arm.
“Aunt Patricia, I want to get out into the fresh air for a few moments.
You won’t mind if I wait for you outside?”
And seeing that Sally looked pale and a trifle harassed, and also
appreciating her former patience, Miss Patricia nodded, without ceasing
her conversation with the French clerk.
The view beyond the office door was more entertaining than Sally had
anticipated on their arrival. One had another outlook on the Seine.
Barges and other large river boats, loaded with supplies, were moving
slowly up or down. Queer people in odd picturesque costumes were standing
here and there in little groups talking to each other in the animated
Latin fashion.
Of course there were occasional soldiers; they were everywhere in Paris.
Within a few moments Sally became interested in several soldiers who were
chatting with some French women. One of them, in a United States uniform,
moved off alone, as if he had only stopped to ask a question.
He was coming in Sally’s direction.
Without being aware of what she was doing Sally had wandered several
yards away from the office door where she originally had intended to
remain. Now she went back to its shelter. Here, although she was still
able to watch the street, she was not so conspicuous.
A young French officer was also approaching and walking in the opposite
direction toward the American.
Sally paid but little attention to either of them until she noticed them
stop and almost immediately begin talking to each other in angry tones.
Then curiosity drove her forth from her shelter a second time.
What difficulty between the two men could have occurred in such a short
space of time? They could hardly have exchanged a dozen words with each
other before the quarreling began. Certainly they were both too angry to
pay the slightest attention to her!
She was standing almost within half a dozen yards of them. Then Sally
recalled Mrs. Burton’s suggestion that the Camp Fire girls try to become
an influence for peace if they observed a misunderstanding between Allied
soldiers.
As Sally had a matter-of-fact appreciation of the difference between
idealistic theories in life and their practical application, which was
rather unusual in so young a girl, it occurred to her at this moment to
contemplate how extremely angry her Camp Fire guardian would be, should
she attempt to speak to the two soldiers who were strangers to her.
Reflecting upon Mrs. Burton’s disapproval should she adopt this method of
following her advice, Sally’s brown eyes brightened, one of her
infrequent dimples reappeared.
Then her expression changed; in spite of her momentary frivolity she was
beginning to feel seriously troubled.
The two soldiers, one a French officer, the other an American private,
had neither separated nor ended their misunderstanding.
Sally was only a girl, and one who expended little energy in thinking of
the larger problems of life, yet she appreciated that at this time any
disagreement between France and the United States in the settlement of
the terms of peace would be a political calamity. Surely, any personal
difficulty between a French and an American soldier was likewise a
misfortune. One did not like to think that men who had been lately united
against a common enemy and fighting for a common ideal could so soon
quarrel with each other.
She moved a little nearer. She then saw the American soldier raise his
arm as if intending to strike his companion, she also saw that the French
officer either had forgotten the fact that an officer does not strike a
private, or else preferred to ignore it.
Involuntarily Sally called out her feeble protest. No one heeded her.
However, the officer, who was older, at the same moment evidently
appreciating that he must not participate in a street fight, turned and
without another word to his companion moved away.
He came back toward Sally Ashton.
This time she studied him more attentively. The French officer was young
and of medium height with fine dark eyes and a rather prominent nose.
“Lieutenant Fleury!”
Sally extended her hand.
“How strange to meet you here in Paris so unexpectedly! Your sister,
Yvonne, thinks you are with the French Army of Occupation. At least this
is the last news I heard of you. Small wonder I have been so interested
in watching you for the last few moments. I must unconsciously have
realized that I knew you!”
The young officer flushed.
“I wish you had _not_ seen me in these last few minutes. But perhaps you
were my good angel, although I was as unaware of your presence as I was
at the time you nursed me back to health in the ruined château near your
old farmhouse. At least I was preserved from striking an American
soldier! I do not see now how I could so far have forgotten myself! Will
you wait here a short time until I am able to find him and apologize. I
believe the fault was entirely mine, although at the beginning of our
conversation I thought he said something discourteous about the French
people. No, my sister does not know I am in Paris. I hoped to come out to
Versailles tomorrow to see her and her friends and to explain.”
The French officer swung round, only to find the young American soldier
standing within a few feet of him.
“I am extremely sorry, sir,” he began, “I believe I was rude, but I have
been in a prison camp in Germany for the past few months and I am afraid
I have rather lost my nerve. I have been asking a simple question for the
past hour until I was under the impression that no one was willing to
tell me what I wished to know. After all perhaps no one has understood!”
For a moment, while Lieutenant Fleury was endeavoring to make his own
apology, Sally Ashton stood quietly regarding them both.
The following moment she was standing between them.
“Dan Webster, perhaps you will allow me to introduce you to Lieutenant
Fleury, since I have the honor of knowing you both. Certainly I never
expected to see either of you. Come home with me to Tante and Peggy,
won’t you, Dan? They both think you are still a prisoner in Germany,
although we have been hoping for word of your release each day.”
Subtly the tones of Sally Ashton’s voice had changed, her manner had
grown gentler.
Ever since they were children, because of the close intimacy between
their families, she and Dan had known each other. Two years before they
had spent the summer in camp together “Behind the Lines” in southern
California. Soon after, Dan, who at the time was too young for the draft,
had volunteered so that they had not met since then.
At present Sally was not greatly puzzled by her own failure to recognize
Dan Webster until he was sufficiently near to have a close look into his
face.
The Dan she remembered had been unusually tall and vigorous, with broad
shoulders and a heavy, muscular frame. This Dan was extremely thin with
stooping shoulders, his ruddy skin an ugly yellow pallor.
He also appeared confused by Sally’s unexpected greeting.
“I say, it is good to see some one I know once again,” he murmured a
moment later. “I have had no letters from home in months and did not
understand that you and Tante and Peggy were still in France. I do hope
you are going to be able to give me a great deal to eat. I was trying to
find a restaurant where I could get something like an American meal when
your friend and I came rather close to a misunderstanding.”
By this time Dan was smiling, displaying his strong white teeth, and the
deep blue of his eyes, which with his black hair was the family
characteristic of both his mother and her twin sister, Mrs. Burton.
However, at this instant, Miss Patricia, coming out of the express office
to seek for Sally, at once assumed command of the situation.