“That is a mistake,” declared Grace with emphasis. “Mark me, the Huns can’t understand and appreciate humane treatment. They will take advantage of that attitude, believing that the Americans are afraid of them. Then we shall have to put pressure on them, and that will cause more trouble than were we to be severe with them now at the outset. I must get about and see what the lay of the land is.”
“You keep out of it, Loyalheart; that is my advice to you. Haven’t you had enough yet?”
“No, I never shall until my country has no further use for my services, my dear. When that time comes, I shall be ready to settle down to the simple life in beautiful Haven Home and enjoy a real home-life with Tom and my beautiful adopted daughter. Elfreda, that child is entwining herself about my heartstrings more and more as time goes on.”
“She is doing the same thing to me,” declared Elfreda. “You will have to divide her with me—I mean share her with me, Grace. I am as much her mother as you are, am I not?”
“You are, of course, though my claim is a prior claim, which you as a lawyer must recognize.” They had a hearty laugh over this.
It was late in the afternoon when Grace went out, first having knocked on Mrs. Smythe’s door but receiving no response. Grace inquired her way to the canteen, looking in the shop windows as she passed, enjoying the sight of stores once more. There were few of these left in rural France where she had been, and those that were left ordinarily bore the marks of shell fire.
The supervisor was not at the canteen where Grace understood she was to be stationed, but Marie Debussy, the supervisor’s maid, was there and at work. Grace greeted her cordially and the girl appeared equally glad to see Grace.
“How is Madame behaving?” she questioned.
“There is no change, but I am here most of the time and do not see so much of her.”
“You are satisfied here then, Marie?”