He laughed a little and said: “They ought to make you a general, Miss Carberry.” He then said to Mr. Burton: “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.”
Looking back I believe that Tish had a premonition of trouble then, for during their conversation aside she got out her knitting, always with her an indication of perturbation or of deep thought, and she spoke rather sharply to Aggie about rinsing the luncheon dishes more thoroughly. Aggie said afterward that she herself had felt at that time that peculiar itching in the palms of her hands which always with her presages bad news.
“If he asks about those grenades, Lizzie, you can reply. Say you don’t know anything about them. That’s the truth.”
“I know where they are,” I said with some acidity. “And what’s more, I know I’m not going to ride a foot in that ambulance with that concentrated extract of hell under my feet.”
“Lizzie——”
She began sternly, but just then the two men came back, and the officer’s face was uncomfortable.
“I—from your demeanor,” he said, “and—er—the fact that you haven’t mentioned it I rather gather that you have not heard the er—the news, Miss Carberry.”
“I didn’t see the morning papers,” Tish said with the dry wit so characteristic of her.
“You have a nephew, I understand, at the Front?”
Tish’s face suddenly grew set and stern.