they are most needed. You see, Barbara’s mother was an Irish woman, so she feels she is partly British; and then her father[39] 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.”

[39]

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[40] 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.

[40]

 

[41]

[41]

CHAPTER III Farewell

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.

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