“I am so glad there is some work we can do.”
“Oh, there is plenty to do,” Molly assured her. “Everybody is doing something. One old lady knitted all through the sermon last Sunday, and the clergyman didn’t object at all. They say he gave out in church a few Sundays ago that if the ladies wanted to knit during the service, he was quite willing, but Mother says if we work in the mornings we may have the afternoons free to do just what we like. She thinks we are entitled to a little fun after studying so hard all winter. Now I am going to leave you to wash up while I change my dress for dinner. We dine at seven, and Steve is coming over from the naval station. I’m crazy to have you both meet him; he is such an old dear.”
“Aren’t you glad you’re here, Gretel?” exclaimed Geraldine, drawing in a long breath of the delicious salt breeze, as she joined her friend at the window a few minutes later. “It reminds me a little bit of Old Point, doesn’t it you?”
“A little, but not very much. Geraldine, do you suppose the men on that ship out there really want to give their lives for their country?”
“I don’t know, but I suppose a good many of them do. How plainly we can see them. It’s very interesting, but if we were Germans I don’t suppose we would be allowed to come here. We might find out things, you know. I read in the paper the other day that the Germans are to be debarred from all water-fronts.”
Gretel was silent, but stood gazing out over the water to the opposite shore. It was all very lovely and peaceful, but those men on the battle-ship—were they going to kill and be killed? Involuntarily she gave a little shudder.
“What’s the matter?” Geraldine inquired in surprise.
“Nothing, only—Geraldine, I’m afraid I’m a dreadful coward.”
“Nonsense,” laughed Geraldine. “Jerry wouldn’t have any use for a coward, and he thinks you the nicest girl he knows. What ever put such a silly idea into your head?”
“I don’t know. I hope I should be brave when the time came, but if I had a father or brother going to the war, I don’t believe I could bear it. Why, even saying good-bye to Peter Grubb made me terribly unhappy. I don’t like even to think of those strange sailors out there going to fight. I’ve been a coward all my life about everything. Why, don’t you remember when I was a little girl, and found out that I had taken Barbara’s opera ticket, I was afraid to confess, but wrote a silly letter, and tried to run away.”