"Oh, it's Elizabeth—it really is!" cried Patsy, clapping her hands together joyfully.
Mother and daughter regarded the American girl wonderingly and somewhat haughtily, but Patsy was not in the least dismayed.
"Isn't this Mrs. Denton?" she asked, stepping forward to lay a hand upon the other girl's arm.
"Yes," was the quiet reply.
Patsy's great eyes regarded her a moment with so sad and sympathetic a look that Mrs. Denton shrank away. Then she noticed for the first time the Red Cross uniform, and her hand went swiftly to her heart as she faltered:
"You—you have brought bad news of Andrew—of my husband?"
"Yes, I am sorry to admit that it is bad news," answered Patsy soberly. "He has been wounded and is now lying ill in our hospital ship at Dunkirk. We came here to find you, and to take you to him."
Mrs. Denton turned to her mother, a passionate appeal in her eyes. But it was some moments before the hard, set look on the face of the countess softened. It did soften at last, however, and she turned to Patsy and said simply:
"We will prepare for the journey at once. Pray excuse us; Niklas will serve refreshments. We will not detain you long."