Uncle Jabez’s letter and Tom Cameron arrived at the hospital at Clair on the very same day. This was the second visit the captain had made to see Ruth since her injury. At this time Helen and Jennie had returned to Paris and Ruth was almost ready to follow them.
“It reads just like the old fellow,” Tom said, smiling, after having perused the letter. “Of course, as usual he has made a mountain of trouble out of a molehill of vexation. But I am sorry for Aunt Alvirah.”
“The dear old soul!” sighed Ruth. “I begin to feel that my being bombed by the Hun may not have been an unmixed evil. Perhaps Aunt Alvirah—and Uncle Jabez, too—very much need me at home. And without the excuse of my broken shoulder I don’t see how I could have got away from here.”
“I wish I were going with you.”
“What! To leave your regiment and all?”
“No, I do not want to leave until this war is finished. But I hate to think of your crossing the ocean alone.”
“Pooh! I shall not be alone. Lots of other people will be on the boat with me, Tommy.”
“But nobody who would have your safety at heart as I should,” he told her earnestly. “You cannot help yourself very well if—if anything should happen.”
“What will happen, do you suppose?” she demanded.
“There are still submarines in the sea,” he said, grimly enough. “In fact, they are more prevalent just now than they were when you came over.”