They hesitated. Then: "For mutton," one of them replied. Both looked relieved. Evidently the mutton was an inspiration. "We have found some mutton." They turned to me. "It is a real festival. You have no idea how long it is since we've had anything of the sort."
"Mutton!" cried the novelist, with frankly greedy eyes. "It makes wonderful soup! Where can I get it?"
They told her, and she stood up, tied on her seven veils and departed, rejoicing, in a car that had come for her.
When she was gone Colonel M—— turned to one of the young women.
"Now," he said, "out with it. What brings you both so far from your thriving and prosperous little community?"
The irony of that was lost on me until later, when I discovered that the said community was a destroyed town with the advance line of trenches running through it, and that they lived in the only two whole rooms in the place.
"Out with it," said the colonel, and scowled ferociously.
Driven into a corner they were obliged to confess. For three hours that afternoon they had stood in a freezing wind on a desolate field, while King Albert of Belgium decorated for bravery various officers and—themselves. The jealously fastened coats were thrown open. Gleaming on the breast of each young woman was the star of the Order of Leopold!
"But why did you not tell us?" the officers demanded.
"Because," was the retort, "you have never approved of us; you have always wanted us sent back to England. The whole British Army has objected to our being where we are."