"Sounds more to me like a conspiracy, and can't they put people in jail for doing things like that?" demanded Nancy.
"Oh, Nancy, you're so literal—as if she would, way up there on an island next to nowhere! And anyway, think of the boys who perjured themselves to get into the service. Wasn't that justified?"
Nancy, being in an unpleasant mood, started to ask what that had to do with her pretending to be an Anne Leavitt who she wasn't, when Big Anne went on in a hurt tone:
"Well, we won't talk about it any more! I'll have to give up going to Russia and my whole life will be spoiled. And I am disappointed—I thought our friendship meant something to you, Nancy."
"Anne! There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for you! You're next dearest to Dad. For you I'll go to—Freedom or any old place. I'll do my best to be you to the dot and I'll pay homage to your forefathers and will ask not a penny of the legacy—if you get it! It shall all be for the cause!"
Anne read no irony in her tone. Her dignity flown, she caught her friend in a strangling hug. "Oh, Nancy, you darling, will you? I'll never forget it! We'll write to her right away—or you will. From this very minute you are Anne Leavitt!"
"I wish I could go, too," put in Claire. "Perhaps I can coax Barry to motor up that way."
"Don't you dare!" cried Nancy in consternation. "It would spoil it all. I'll write to you every day every thing that happens. Goodness, if I'm as scared when I face your Aunt Sa-something as I am right now when I think about it, she'll know at a glance that I'm just an everyday Leavitt and not the child of her forefathers!"
"Hark!" Claire lifted a silencing finger. "The seniors are singing."
The lines they loved drifted to them.