BARBARA THORNTON stood at the window of her little drawing-room in New York City looking over toward Central Park.
It was a charming room and this afternoon was filled with flowers sent from her mother-in-law’s country place on Long Island. Perhaps as an expression of his patriotism, the gardener had cut only red, white and blue flowers, for among the white and red of the fragrant roses were tall stalks of deep, blue-starred delphiniums.
A table was arranged for tea, but because it was summer time, there were tall frosted glasses instead of cups and a big cut-glass bowl to be used later for ice.
Barbara herself was dressed in a thin, white china silk, as if she were expecting guests. She had now been married to Richard Thornton a good many months, and yet looked very little older than the Barbara who had appeared so unexpectedly at the Thornton home, nearly three years before, on her way to do Red Cross nursing in France.
Of course Barbara felt a good deal older. No girl can pass through the experience of war nursing and come out of it unchanged. Moreover, Barbara within three eventful years had also married and had a baby.
Yet this afternoon, amid her lovely surroundings, Bab, who was ordinarily the most cheerful of persons, did not appear to be happy. Her cheeks were more deeply flushed than usual, and every once in a while, in spite of the fact that she was alone, she would wipe the tears furtively away from her fine eyes with a tiny, white lace handkerchief.
For Barbara did not desire the visitors, whom she was expecting at any moment, to discover that she was troubled.
When the ring came at her front door bell, giving herself a hurried glance in the mirror and forcing a smile, Barbara reached the door just after her little Irish maid had opened it.
Standing outside were three persons, one of them an older woman in an exquisite costume of blue and silver, the colors of her eyes and hair, another a young girl of about sixteen and the third a young man.
“Oh, Sonya, I am so glad to see you. It has seemed such ages and so strange to think of you and Nona in Italy without the old group of Red Cross girls! But where is Nona? I thought she was to be with you.”