"What do you think?" he demanded of the man who had just come in to relieve him. "Listen to this: 'To Major James Gordon: Exchanged; all well; signed, Leslie.'"
"What? Bob Gordon?" exclaimed the other, somewhat disrespectfully but with great heartiness. "Say, isn't that fine? You'd better tell the Major in double-quick."
The outgoing operator took his advice and sat down before the telephone. In a moment he had Major Gordon on the wire. "Cablegram, sir. Shall I proceed?"
"Yes—yes—go ahead." Major Gordon's voice was not very steady. The soldier promptly gave the message, in the cheerful tone of a good-hearted fellow who knew he was communicating the best of news. He and his mate had seen Bob on furlough and graduation leave—he seemed still more a West Point cadet than an officer. They had a very friendly feeling for him.
"Thanks!" came Major Gordon's voice as he hung up, and the word sounded as though he meant it.
"Must have been in a bad way if the Germans let him go," commented the relief, sitting down to work.
"He'll get back to the fight again, though—mark my words," was the other man's thoughtful prophecy.
Major Gordon had just come home from a long afternoon's inspection of Q. M. stores when the telephone rang. He had looked and felt both tired and sad but in two minutes all was changed. When he turned away after taking that short message his eyes had regained their old brightness, his lips parted in a smile as merry as Bob's own, the little stoop to his shoulders straightened, as with a quick, eager stride he reached the foot of the stairs and shouted for the whole house to hear, "Sally! Lucy! Bob's exchanged!"
In an hour the whole post knew of it, and half the garrison was at the Gordons' door with joyful greetings. But for a little while Lucy could not go down to welcome them, and Marian took her place when Julia and Anne came to rejoice with her over the long awaited message. Lucy had not cried in many days, and her courage had stood by her until Marian marveled at her calm cheerfulness, but now she could be brave no longer. She sank down among the pillows of her little sofa and did not try to restrain the tears of joy and gratitude that poured down her cheeks. It seemed too good to be true—beyond belief—and more than once in that brief half hour Lucy raised her head and looked with tear-wet eyes from the window at the familiar landmarks of the post, to reassure herself that she was not in a happy dream. "Bob's safe—he's out of prison," she said over and over, to hear how the words sounded, and what finally led her to dry her eyes and leave her refuge on the sofa was the eager desire to show Marian the gratitude she could not yet give Mr. Leslie for his generous devotion.
Next to her longing to hear from Bob by his own hand, Lucy wished to see her friend Captain Jourdin and tell him of Bob's freedom. She had seen real sympathy and interest in the Frenchman's bright, dark eyes, and she thought he might be able to tell her more about Bob's release than they had guessed from the few words of Mr. Leslie's cable. Dispatches from Washington, following shortly after, told no more than the bare fact of the exchange, and it seemed unlikely that they could learn anything else for several days.