Grace, to save time, told the story from the time they left the ground in the sausage balloon right down to the moment when she got back into the American lines.
“What do you propose to do next for thrills?” demanded Elfreda finally.
“I am not looking for thrills. I am in hope that I shall be permitted to go back home before very long—that is, if Tom goes.”
“He won’t. They are planted here for months to come, provided we do not go on into the enemy country.”
“How is Mrs. Smythe?” Grace smiled.
“No change. I understand from her that you are to be placed on canteen work, drawing hot chocolate and the like. She will have you mopping out the place next. Chad is in a rage most of the time, except when her latest friend is with her. Oh, I didn’t tell you about that. The day before you went over by the air route, a most charming young lady appeared on the scene. Mrs. Smythe said it was a very old friend of hers of the name of Molly Marshall. I don’t know who she is or how she got into the lines, but I have been told by those who ought to know, that she is an American woman who has been a prisoner of the Germans; that she got by the German sentries and reached our lines after suffering all sorts of hardships. She doesn’t look the part, I am free to say.”
Grace was interested at once.
“You are suspicious of her, Elfreda?” she demanded.
“Of course I am. I am suspicious of any one who takes up with Chad. I don’t know where Molly is to-day. I haven’t seen her since last evening. She is billeted with Chad.”
“Where does Mrs. Smythe live?”