CHAPTER VIII
HUNLAND IS REACHED AT LAST
“WHAT’S all this row about?” demanded a gruff voice, and a heavy hand was laid on Grace Harlowe’s shoulder.
“Don’t get excited, Buddy,” answered Grace laughingly.
“Woman!” he exclaimed.
“Two of them,” added another M. P. “This needs investigation.”
“Just a moment, please. I—”
“Arrest those persons, whoever they are. They were trying to break into this house!” shouted Mrs. Smythe.
“Listen to me, Buddies, then arrest us if you think best. These were our billets, but while we were out to dinner with some friends, officers (she accentuated the word), our belongings were thrown into the street and the door barred against us. The woman who did it is Mrs. Smythe, supervisor of the welfare workers with the Third Army. We are both welfare workers.”
“What’s your name?” demanded the M. P. a little less gruffly.