“We’ll give you every assistance possible,” said Lieutenant Warren.
At that the Major bowed himself out. Fresh coffee was poured, and the meal resumed.
“How terrible!” Millie exclaimed.
“The Spanish hairdresser,” Norma whispered to Betty once more.
Late that afternoon the Major returned, bringing with him a bright-eyed little man who called himself Mr. Sperry.
“Mr. Sperry wishes to know,” he explained, “if any of you can give him a clue regarding the young lady who undoubtedly is masquerading in a WAC uniform.”
“That’s it,” the little man cackled. “Just that. The sergeant in charge tells me she had an identification card—forged, no doubt. Have any of you, by chance, lost your card?”
There followed a hasty delving into purses and pockets. Each girl held up her card.
“Ah, yes! I see! All quite in order. I suggest that fresh photographs of these ladies be taken—each young lady in uniform—and that they be placed on identification cards. These should bear your signature. Your men are acquainted with that signature?”
“Every man,” the Major agreed. “The pictures shall be taken. There’s a good photographer—excellent man, but eccentric—at Granite Head. Lieutenant Warren, have your young ladies ready at nine tomorrow. I shall send cars for them.”