The news was broken to Mildred that her pet was no more and her bruised heart was much comforted with promises of a funeral later on when Kizzie got time to make arrangements. Kent and Judy caught up with Andy and Nance before they reached the old church where the war work was carried on.
“What under Heaven is the matter?” panted Judy.
“It may be nothing, but I must investigate. Let’s go in as quietly as possible. Does Madame Misel still work on the surgical dressings?”
“Yes, indeed! And such beautiful work as she does! Molly insists that she must have a great deal of good in her to give so much time to this work. Sometimes I think I must have dreamed that they spoke as they did that night in the garden. Why should pro-Germans and spies choose this particular spot, anyhow?”
The workroom was filled with very busy ladies when our young couples entered. Molly was tying up dressings, after carefully inspecting and counting them. An order had come for many bandages and other dressings and all hands were at work trying to get them off. Madame Misel was deftly arranging the rolled bandages in pyramids and then tying them with strings made of the selvedge torn from the cotton. Nothing goes to waste in this war work. Madame’s countenance was as calm as ever as she bent over her work, but when she saw the two men enter, Judy noticed a sudden alertness in her glance and a tiny spot of red on her usually white cheek. As she pulled the selvedge string, she must have given it an unusual tug for it broke and the tightly-rolled bandages flew hither and yon over the floor.
“Humph! There is no telling how many germs got picked up in that scatteration,” muttered Andy as he stooped and gathered the bandages.
“The—bandage—does—not—touch the—wound,” said Madame, evidently forgetting she was speaking to a surgeon.
“No?” said Andy shortly.
“Molly,” he said, “I must speak with you a moment.”
“Well, Andy dear, I am awfully busy. You come home to luncheon with me, you and Nance, and then you can speak all you’ve a mind to.”