And Norma too was on the watch—
It was one of those nights when one does not wish to sleep. The air was full of sounds, of airplanes roaring in close ashore, then speeding away to sea.
There were wild tales going the rounds of the village as Norma went there for a walk. There would be an invasion of America. Spies were being landed all along the coast from subs.
“I heard,” said a fisherman, “that one of them lady soldiers, a WAAC do they call them, was beat to death on the road from Granite Head.” As Norma listened in on this bit of conversation, she smiled. She, beyond doubt, was that “lady soldier.” It all went to show how stories grew as they traveled.
“Or does it?” she asked with a start. “Perhaps someone is starting these wild tales to frighten us. If that’s it,” she squared her shoulders, “they’ve got a long way to go.”
As she returned to Harbor Bells, she found herself in a mood for talking, telling tales, confiding in someone.
And there, sitting alone by the half-burned fire, as if she had been waiting for her, sat Lieutenant Warren.
“It’s a wild night,” she said, as Norma dropped into a seat beside her.
“Yes, a strange night. It seems to bring the war close.”
“So very close to America,” the Lieutenant agreed. “It’s a night for a ghost story.”