All that had followed in the later decades of United States history after all seemed of small moment to Belinda Melnotte. The years of struggle to maintain the Union and to free from slavery the whites as well as the blacks of the South were merely incidents she had read about in school. Her two grandfathers had come to the country while the Civil War was in progress; but the struggle had meant nothing to them save as it offered greater opportunity to make money. And it meant little now to Belinda.
This country—these United States of ours—is indeed a melting pot for the nations of the earth; but the fire under the pot sputters like a handful of green thorns and the brew of citizenship infuses slowly. Love of country seldom develops solely from gratitude; it is when one is called upon to give that one learns to love. And Belinda Melnotte had never given much of even her thought to this, her native land.
She felt a strange and growing unrest as the time of her graduation from the hospital drew near. She secretly feared, however, that this uncertainty and indecision had something to do with her interest in the private patient she was nursing.
The Aero Club had ordered everything done for Sanderson that could be done to make comfortable a person in his situation. When he was well enough to have visitors there were several men who came to see the aviator who were either fellow-airmen or were interested in flying.
Belinda suspected that Sanderson was one of a number of courageous young men who were schooling themselves for aviation work of a particular character and for a particular purpose. Just what this special work was she did not know, for Sanderson and his friends were secretive.
She found these visitors to Room A-a very interesting, however; and they made much of Sandy's pretty nurse. Gay as she was with them, Belinda kept a sharp oversight of her patient; and if she saw him growing tired she hurried the visitors out without much ado.
One of the young aviator's brothers, who lived near enough to visit the patient on more than one occasion, intimated he suspected Frank of feeling more than a passing interest in the nurse. She, however, was not supposed to overhear the observation.
"Who wouldn't?" Frank Sanderson stoutly responded.
"Look out!" his brother warned him. "If Stella hears of it——"
"Stella! What Stella doesn't know will never trouble her," the man in bed said quickly, and in no very pleasant tone. "By the way, how is she—and the kiddies?"