At least Gerry occasionally had been frivolous! Certainly these were war times and yet could one be serious forever and ever, without an intermission? The other Camp Fire girls now and then got upon Sally’s nerves.
As she was seldom warm enough these days, covered with her steamer blanket Sally had been curled up on the bed in her room which she shared with her sister. First she had taken a short nap and then attempted to read a French novel which she had discovered in the attic of the farm. The French puzzled her and it was tiresome to have to consult a dictionary. So Sally lay still for a few moments listening to Mère ’Toinette singing the Marseillaise in a cracked old voice as she went about her work downstairs.
Finally, stretching in a characteristically indolent fashion, Sally rose and walked over to a window. She could only see through one small opening. All the glass in the countryside had been smashed by the terrific bombardments, and as there was no glass to be had for restoring the windows, glazed paper had been pasted over the frames. The one small aperture had been left for observation of climate and scenery.
Even without her birdseye view, Sally was conscious that the sun was shining brilliantly. A long streak had shone through the glazed paper and lay across her bed.
She decided that she might enjoy a short walk. She really had forgotten Mrs. Burton’s suggestion that no one of the girls leave the farm alone and had no thought of deliberately breaking an unwritten law.
Mère ’Toinette and Sally had become devoted friends and also there was an unspoken bond of sympathy between her and Jean, expressed only by the way in which the old man looked at her and in certain dry chucklings in his throat and shakings of his head.
As Sally was about to leave the front door suddenly Mère ’Toinette appeared, to present her with a little package of freshly baked fruit muffins. Sally’s appetite in war times, when everybody was compelled to live upon such short rations, was a standing household joke and one which she deeply resented. Mère ’Toinette resented the point of view equally, preferring Sally to any one of the other girls, and also it was her idea that the good things of this world are created only for the young. There was no measure to her own self-sacrifice.
A few yards beyond the house Sally discovered old Jean, who was doubtless coming to find her, as he bore in his hand a French fleur-de-lis, the national wild flower, which he had found growing in a field as hardy and unconquerable as the French spirit.
Sally accepted his offering with the smile of gratitude which seemed always a sufficient reward for her many masculine admirers.
With Mère ’Toinette’s gift in her Camp Fire knapsack and with Jean’s flower thrust into her belt, Sally then made a fresh start. She had not thought of going far, as the roads and fields were in too disagreeable a condition.