“Oh, I’m so glad to see you, and now you can see my boys!” And then, after Mrs. Van Vorst had led them into one of the little side-rooms opening from the long hall, where they could converse without being heard, she told all about her boys,—Sheila, the boy-girl, as she called her, the good times they were all having, and about the young man who was lying so ill up on the mountain, and what had brought her to the hotel. “I am so nervous,” sighed the girl, as she finished her story, “for I don’t know this big man, and I dread to speak with him, for fear he will be brusque and sharp with me, but something must be done for that poor soldier boy.”
“Excuse me a moment,” exclaimed Mrs. Van Vorst after she had conversed a while; “I want to go and see if I have any mail.” But, to Nathalie’s surprise, she did not go in the direction of the desk, but hurried after a tall, rather stout gentleman who at that moment passed through the hall.
But the little incident was forgotten, as Nathalie and Nita had so much to say to one another that they both talked at once, as if their tongues were hung in the middle. Nita insisted that her friend would have to remain to dinner with her, as she had so much news to tell, especially about the Liberty Girls, that it would take hours to tell it.
In the midst of these many bits of enjoyed information, Nita’s mother returned, and Nathalie in a moment was dazedly bowing to the tall gentleman, whom her friend presented as Dr. Gilmour. “He is the surgeon, Nathalie,” she added smilingly, “whom you came after. As he is a very old friend of mine, and a good American to boot,” she nodded at the gentleman, “he has consented to go with you up the mountain to see your Son of Liberty, as you call him.”
“Oh, I am so glad! I am so glad!” burst from the girl with a joy-thrilled voice. “And, oh, I thank you so much; it is so kind of you,” she added with misty eyes, turning impulsively towards the physician.
But the big man, with an amused smile in his keen gray eyes, patted her on the shoulder as he said, “My little lady, I think that every true American should stand ready to do anything to help any man, or boy, who has been brave enough to face those fiendish Huns.”
“Oh, I think so, too,” cried the relieved girl, a wave of color flushing her cheeks, “and I think it must have been that thought that gave me the courage to come and ask you.”
“Oh, isn’t it just dandy!” enthused Nita, as Dr. Gilmour hurried away to get his little black case, while Nathalie led her friend down the steps of the veranda to where three little figures sat patiently waiting for her on the tower-steps.
But the girl’s eyes widened as she suddenly perceived that they were not alone, for a brown-clad figure with soldierly bearing, but with a golf-bag slung over his shoulder, with one foot on the steps, was bending down and talking to the children. And then a sudden thrill stirred her as she recognized the soldier lad who had helped her down the foot-bridge that day at the Flume, and who had so kindly taken Jean to see the cascade.
As Nathalie reached the children, she became embarrassed, as she suddenly realized that she did not know the name of the young soldier. But her embarrassment was momentary, as Nita called out merrily, “Hello, Van. Is that what you are doing, making love to the kiddies? I thought you were going to play golf.”