Moreover, they were too busy to think clearly on any subject, and a time of action is seldom a time of fear.
Except for the two girls moving hastily about, the little farmhouse was delightfully quiet and peaceful after the dreadful morning at the hospital. Once the thought flashed through Barbara Meade’s mind: “If only they might stay here in the little ‘House with the Blue Front Door’ and take their chances with the enemy!” They would be under the protection of the Red Cross. However, as they had received their orders from an authority higher than Eugenia’s, like soldiers they must do as they were commanded, without considering their personal inclinations.
So Barbara, having finished Mildred’s packing, took her suit-case downstairs by the front door. She then went up for Eugenia’s, which Nona had by this time completed. It was heavier than the other and she staggered a little and had to stop to recover her breath after she had placed it alongside Mildred’s.
Therefore, she chanced to be standing just beside the front door when the first knocking on the outside began. Nona had drawn a great, old-fashioned bolt across the door after entering, chiefly with the idea that they should not be disturbed at their tasks.
Barbara did not open the door at once.
This knocking was not of an ordinary kind, such as one would expect from a visitor. It was very insistent, never stopping for a second; it was indeed, a kind of hurried tattoo.
“Who is there?” Barbara demanded. But before any one else could reply Nona called from upstairs.
“Please don’t open the door, Barbara, at least not until we are about to start. There isn’t an instant to waste in talking to any one.”
In consequence Barbara turned away, but immediately after she recognized the voice of old François.
“Open, open!” he shouted, first in French and then in English, having acquired a few words from his four American girl friends.