For a woman to dream that she is in battle is a very lucky omen.
The Queen of the Romanies.
IN HER DREAMS—AGAIN IN BATTLE
“What’s that big barn of a house?”
“It’s the Red Cross house.”
“Who lives there?” “Clara Barton, don’t you know Clara Barton?” “And what does she want to live in a house like that for?”
“It is her headquarters—her home. There is where she does her work; there is where she keeps her supplies. Whenever there is a cry of distress anywhere in the United States she is off at a moment’s notice.”
No paint on the outside of the house, none on the inside—a regular barn—why wouldn’t the stranger ask questions?
The inside of the house is also strangely mysterious, with its great central part open to the ceiling; the balconies protected by railings, reminding one of a steamship, the atmosphere giving the stranger a sort of weird, uncanny feeling.
The visitor when within is still curious, and would ask other questions. “What are all these things on the wall?”