But the matter made no real impression on her mind. It was a transitory thought entirely. She went to her clean little cell in the Y. W. C. A. home and forgot all about Mr. José and the fire extinguishers.
CHAPTER IX—TOM SAILS, AND SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENS
“You can see your son, Second Lieutenant Thomas Cameron, before he sails for France, if you will be at the Polk Hotel, at eight o’clock to-morrow p. m.”
There have been other telegrams sent and received of more moment than the above, perhaps; but none that could have created a more profound impression in the Cameron household.
There have been not a few similar messages put on the telegraph wires and received by anxious parents during these months since America has really got into the World War.
There is every necessity for secrecy in the sailing of the transports for France. The young officers themselves have sometimes told more to their relatives than they should before the hour of sailing. So the War Department takes every precaution to safeguard the crossing of our boys who go to fight the Huns.
With Mr. Cameron holding an important government position and being ready himself to go across before many weeks, it was only natural that he should have this information sent him that he might say good-bye to Tom. The latter had already been a fortnight with “his boys” in the training camp and was fixed in his assignment to his division of the expeditionary forces.
Ruth chanced to be at the Outlook, as the Cameron home was called, for over Sunday when this telegram was received. Both she and Helen were vastly excited.
“Oh, I’m going with you! I must see Tommy once more,” cried the twin with an outburst of sobs and tears that made her father very unhappy.
“My dear! You cannot,” Mr. Cameron tried to explain.