“Thank you, Won. It was very kind of you to watch our belongings. Don’t go away yet, I may need you.”
Grace tried the door and found it barred. She called, but there was no answer.
“This is provoking!” she exclaimed, now thoroughly exasperated.
“What are you going to do?” asked Elfreda.
“Wake up the house,” she replied shortly, stepping out into the street and feeling about on the ground. “I think this will do it,” she observed, returning to the sidewalk with a rock in one hand. It was a sizable rock, a big cobblestone, with which the street was paved, except for the holes that had been dug by German shells.
“Hulloa the house!” shouted Grace.
There was no response from within. Grace drew back the rock and banged it against the door, but still no response. Now began such a banging as awakened sleepers in the cellars all along the street, a banging that attracted the attention of M. P.’s (military police) and that split a board in the door itself.
“Hulloa the house!” repeated the Overton girl.
“What do you want?” demanded a calm voice from within, in a tone that convinced Grace Harlowe that its owner had not been asleep at all.
“I wish to get into my billet, if you please.”