"Oh! I could never look like a boy," Ruth objected, shrinking as she saw the second uniform brought to light.
"For your protection," he said again. "A girl like you, Fraulein, would not have the chance of a rabbit among these Huns. They are not French," he added dryly. "I will step outside. Make haste, please."
He practically commanded her to don the uniform he laid out.
Ruth let fall the heavy rubber garment she had worn through the swamp. Then she removed her outer clothing and got into the uniform and into the long, polished boots quickly. There was even the swagger cane that young Prussian officers carry.
She viewed herself as well as she could in the piece of mirror in the corner. She might have the appearance of a "stage" soldier; but nobody would ever, for a moment, take her for a man!
She strode up and down the hut for several moments, trying to tune her gait to her new character—no easy matter. Finally she went to the door. The lamplight showed her figure boldly in the frame of the doorway. She saw the waiting major start, and he muttered something under his breath.
"Am I not all right?" she asked with some trepidation.
For once Major Marchand forgot himself.
He bowed his stiff, military bow with a gesture as though he would kiss her finger tips.
"Assuredly, Mademoiselle!"