"Dear Molly, you must not. Roy is tired and hungry. Try to think of him. He wants food. And he has not said one word to me yet." Polly dashed aside her tears, trying to smile. "How did you get away from Verdun, Roy?"
"Not Verdun. Didn't you know I'd been sent to Bitche last spring?"
"No. Were you really? Bitche! Isn't that where prisoners are said to be so badly treated? O we hear so little!" and a sigh came from Polly's heart, while Molly, having pulled Roy into a chair, knelt by his side, gazing with eyes of rapt delight into his face.
"Rather! yes. I got away from there. I'll tell you all about it presently. It's all right, now I'm back in old England. Do you know, when first I got on shore, I just went down on my knees, and kissed the ground. Bitche is an awful place,—couldn't well be worse. Drake, you didn't know me. For shame! But I was sure Miss Molly would. I knew she'd never be taken in. Eh, Molly?"
"I don't know as I didn't, sir, for all you're so growed and altered. I couldn't turn you away, and that's a fact, though it seemed like as if I'd ought. And I did feel queer-like, and no mistake, when I see you a-looking at me, sir; only begging your pardon, sir, you did speak so short—"
"I'm sorry; but I didn't mean to be found out by anybody first, except by Miss Molly. Dear little Molly!" as she stooped to kiss the back of his brown hand. "No, no, you mustn't do that. I say, Drake, I wonder if you can find anything respectable for me to wear. These things were given me at a farmhouse in France, and they were old to begin with. And I've had to get to London on the tramp, because I'd no money, though people have given me many a lift, and shelter as well. But couldn't you make me look decent, before Mr. and Mrs. Bryce come home?"
Drake made no difficulty about the matter, and he and Roy, after a few more explanations, went off together. Roy had seen in an old newspaper, since landing on the east coast, the mention of Mrs. Fairbank's death; and he had at once decided to find his way straight to the house of Mr. Bryce, secure of learning what might have become of Polly and Molly. He had hardly felt surprise, on arrival, to learn that both the girls were there. Another sadder duty would lie before him soon—to see Admiral and Mrs. Peirce, and to tell them the story of little Will. But his first aim had been to reach Molly.
As the two disappeared, Molly flung herself on the rug, with her face on Polly's knees.
"To think that I have my own Roy again!" she whispered.
"Dear Molly, 'tis something indeed to be thankful for!" A tear splashed on Molly's cheek. She looked up with startled eyes.