“You know you would,” laughed Billie, blushing a little. “But he’s only a comrade.”
The doctor looked into her eyes again.
“That’s what they all should be, Miss Billie,” he said. “Comrades. And if I were only fifteen years younger, I should be looking for just such a comrade as you.”
“But I am your comrade,” protested the young girl. “Just as much as Richard’s. I’m proud to be. It’s the greatest honor that’s ever been paid to me.”
“Oh, to be young again,” sighed the doctor with a humorous lift to his eyebrows. “Oh, to be young, like young Richard, there. But I must remember that I am a very busy middle-aged person with an extremely interesting patient to pull through. I trust he’ll thank me for the job.”
“Don’t you honestly believe he is some distinguished person?”
“I couldn’t say, little comrade, but I could guess that he’s no ordinary one.”
They had reached the cabin now. The others had come up, and they all stood outside talking in low voices. After a brief word with Alberdina, Dr. Hume conducted her into the little room where the Motor Maids and their friends had once found refuge. From the doorway, Billie could see the silver candlesticks on the mantel shelf. Mrs. Lupo had kept them brightly polished and they lent a strange charm and refinement to the bare apartment. Phoebe crept in and knelt outside her father’s door.
“Now, Alberdina,” said the doctor as a last caution, “you understand that you are not to speak unless the gentleman inside asks you a question in German. Answer him in three words if you can. Then come out quietly. If he calls, you may go back.”
Alberdina laid aside her comedy hat and followed the doctor into the sick room. The others gathered noiselessly outside the window and listened. There was a long silence. Then the man on the bed spoke in a low, weak voice. It was only a mumble of sounds to Billie and Richard, but Mr. Campbell understood German and listened intently.