“Here,” she suddenly cried, gathering her things together and hurriedly getting to her feet, “this is the Bridge! We have to get off here and change cars.”
§ 2
The house just inside the high iron fence of the Navy Yard in which Commander Jerome Sedgwick lived was a three-story, square, dirty cream-painted cement affair, which bore his name in a small, neat sign on the third step of the front stairs. Across the street from it, children racketed upon a city play-ground, and in its rear some green-painted hot-houses leaned haphazardly against one another, their backs turned upon a quadrangle where several orderly tennis courts were located. Jeannette had visited Miss Holland here many times, and one summer a few years ago, had spent her two weeks’ vacation keeping her old friend company, while the nephew, Jerry, was enjoying a month’s leave with his family, fishing among the Maine lakes.
A little girl of five, just tall enough to reach the knob, opened the door a few inches and stared up unsmilingly at the visitors.
“How do you do, Sarah?” said Jeannette, recognizing the child. “Is your mama at home?”
Sarah continued to stare stolidly a moment, then turned and disappeared, leaving the door hardly more than ajar. Jeannette and Etta could hear the sound of her shrill, piping voice, and her small running feet within.
Mrs. Sedgwick came rustling to greet the callers promptly, and in her wake limped Miss Holland.
“Oh, you dear!” exclaimed the latter, catching sight of Jeannette. “I’m so glad you came; I’ve been hungering for a sight of you for weeks.” She kissed her friend warmly on both cheeks. Etta was presented.
“The child begged to be allowed to come,” explained her aunt. “She wanted a glimpse of the Yard.”
“Why, certainly,” exclaimed Mrs. Sedgwick cordially. “I’m delighted you brought her. Jerry unfortunately isn’t home but I have to take Sarah and Junior out shortly, and I’ll be charmed to show your niece about, and leave you two to gossip by yourselves.”