"Marian, I think my neck will break in a minute!" she exclaimed at last, recalling her thoughts from visions of Bob's future as Captain Brent had so generously predicted it, while she closed her eyes for a second against the blue, dazzling heavens, across which the airplanes swooped and darted. "There's Julia," she said a moment later. "I'm going over to speak to her."
Lucy walked back from the field a little to join her friend. Other inspections were in progress on the parade, where a battalion of infantry was marching in review. Over the music of the band as it played one of Harry Lauder's stirring airs that made the soldiers' feet move faster, Lucy said to Julia:
"They're fine, aren't they? But don't you still miss the old Twenty-Eighth? It doesn't seem as though any troops look as they did."
The music stopped, and Julia answered, looking at the little reviewing party advancing toward the companies, "I think one reason all the men here have done so well is because the old regiment gave them such a splendid example. They were first in the trenches—think what that means."
"Bob said Mr. Harding was so proud," said Lucy, softly. "Oh, I wish we could hear some thing about him! When I think of the night he said good-bye so cheerfully at the dock, I can't realize that he may never come back. I feel ashamed to have been thinking all the time of Bob."
"Goodness, you needn't," said Julia, giving Lucy's arm a friendly squeeze. "But after Bob's wonderful good fortune I can't help feeling more hopeful about other people. It seems as if there were a big chance for everybody."
"You and Marian are a nice little pair of optimists," remarked Lucy, musingly. "Still, I sort of think you're right."
"Let's get Marian and go home," Julia suggested, digging her cold hands into her pockets. "The flights are almost over."
Lucy reëntered the house with red cheeks and out of breath, having run most of the way home across the snow.