“War, war?” Phil echoed, dazedly. “Why, it’s just as old Major B—— prophesied, only sooner. Can you read any more, Jack?”
“Oh, do, do!” urged Lucile, forgetting her anxiety in this overwhelming almost unbelievable news. “There must be more of it you can make out.”
The familiar honk of an automobile horn jerked their eyes from the paper to the curb, where the big gray touring car had silently drawn up. Lucile snatched the paper none too ceremoniously from Jack’s hand and flew to the machine, joyfully relieved to find her father and mother safe and sound. She was closely followed by the others.
“Mother, Dad, I’m so glad to see you’re back all right; we were awfully worried!” she gasped. “But have you seen the paper? Oh, what does it mean?” 181
“It means,” said Mr. Payton, slowly, and with grim emphasis, “it means that the sooner we leave the country behind and set foot on good old United States soil the better it will be for all of us. Come, get in.”
“But, Dad, how about dinner, and the theater, and all the other things we were going to do?” Lucile wailed. “Have we got to give them all up?”
“Better to lose a little pleasure than find ourselves stranded in a country at war and perhaps be unable to leave it. We haven’t any time to lose.” It was the first time Lucile could remember ever hearing that tone of command in her father’s voice, and somehow she knew it must be obeyed without question.
Silently, and as yet unable to comprehend the full extent of what had occurred, the party, which had started out so merrily and under such bright auspices in the morning, returned to their hotel.
Only once did Lucile shake off her preoccupation long enough to ask for M. Charloix.
“Did you find him, Dad? We thought you might have had some trouble, you were so long getting back.”