“On my own part, I was only reminiscing upon the travels of this old tea set. Back and forth from the dear old Red Mill to Briarwood Hall, and all around the country on our vacations. To your Lighthouse Point place, Jennie. To your father’s winter camp, Helen. And out West to Jane’s uncle’s ranch, and down South and all! And then across the ocean and all about France! No wonder the teacups are nicked and the saucers cracked.”
“What busy times we’ve had, girls,” agreed Helen.
“What busy times Ruth has had,” grumbled Jennie. “You and I, Nell, come up here from Paris to visit her now and then. Otherwise we would never hear a Boche shell burst, unless there is an air raid over Paris, or the Germans work their super-gun and smash a church!”
“Ruth is so brave,” sighed Helen.
“Cat’s foot!” snapped Ruth. “I’m just as scared as you are every time I hear a gun. Oh!”
To prove her statement, that cry burst from her lips involuntarily. There was an explosion in the distance—whether of gun or bomb, it was impossible to say.
“Oh, Ruth!” cried Helen, clasping her hands. “I thought you wrote us that our boys had pushed the Germans back so far that the guns could scarcely be heard from here?”
“Must be some mistake about that,” muttered Jennie, with her mouth full of tea-wafers. “There goes another!”
Ruth Fielding had risen and went to the narrow window. After the second explosion a heavy siren began to blow a raucous alarm. Nearer aerial defense guns spoke.
“Oh, girls!” exclaimed Ruth, “it is an air raid. We have not had one before for weeks—and never before in broad day!”