I was surprised to see that his eyes, like mine, were wet when he handed me the draft. Then he smiled: "We mustn't lose our nerve, Ted. Go out there and fight for that girl," and he gripped my hand.
The next day we began our long journey across the Continent We had several hours to wait in Chicago before the Santa Fé limited left in the evening. We hired an open cab and drove for an hour along the lake front of that amazing city. Helen took her old, eager childish delight in seeing something new. Her eyes danced as I had not seen them dance for weeks. We astonished passersby by halting our cab to stare upward at sky-scrapers or to peer from alongside the curb at luxurious shop windows.
"They wonder what curious brand of country folks we are," I laughed with her.
"Ted!" Helen exclaimed, clutching my arm, "there's one of those wonderful American candy shops—do buy me some chocolates."
Again I laughed at the blend of the two countries in her remark. The cab was stopped once more and a box of chocolates added to our luggage. In our delight over sight-seeing together, we forgot for a time the shadow hanging over us. It was Miss Brock who brought us to ourselves. Helen was getting dangerously excited. The cabman drove us to our hotel. There we sat in a room looking out over the lake until time to go to our train.
Driving to the station, Helen said: "Let's stop for a day or two in Chicago on our way back next June, Ted. I think it's fun."
On the train Helen and I had a little compartment to ourselves, with another for baby, nurse, and Miss Brock, the trained nurse. Helen insisted at once on playing house and having the baby come as a caller to visit us.
"Ted—just think! We are going across the Continent. It's a real adventure, dear."
"To be anywhere with you is a beautiful adventure," I whispered. It sounded banal, but I meant it.