“Seems to me I’ve heard of that fellow,” ruminated the ambulance driver, removing his big spectacles to wipe them. “But I believe he is wounded. I’m sorry,” he added, as he saw the change in Ruth’s face. “Maybe he isn’t, after all. Is—is this chap a pretty close friend of yours?”
Ruth told him, somewhat brokenly, in truth, just how near and dear to her the Cameron twins were. Telling more, perhaps, in the case of Tom, than she intended.
“I’ll see what I can find out about him. He’s been in this sector, I believe,” he said. “I guess he has been at our headquarters up yonder and I’ve met him.
“Well, so long,” he added, hopping into his car. “Next time I’m back this way maybe I’ll have some news for you—good news.”
“Oh, I hope so!” murmured Ruth, watching the battered ambulance wheel out of the hospital court.
Henriette Dupay had an errand in the village the next day and came to see Ruth, too. The little French girl was very much excited.
“Oh, my dear Mademoiselle Ruth!” she cried. “What do you think?”
“I could not possibly think—for you,” smiled Ruth.
“It is so—just as I told you,” wailed the other girl. “It always happens.”
“Do tell me what you mean? What has happened now?”