Just at that moment a shrill voice cried out sharply:
“Left! Right! One! Two! One! Two.” She recognized that voice. It was Millie, the shopgirl!
For a space of seconds they kept up the steady tramp, tramp, tramp. Then, with a burst of laughter, they all took up the chant: “One! Two!”
They kept this up to the very door of the Club. Then, all of a sudden, the chant ended with a low escape of breath. There in front of the Club stood a captain of the WACs.
As they filed past, the girls saluted, and the captain gravely returned their salute.
“Wasn’t that terrible!” Millie whispered, gripping Norma’s arm. “And I started it! Do—do you suppose they’ll put me in the guardhouse?”
“I don’t know,” Norma hesitated. “No—not the guardhouse. No WAC is ever put in there. I guess it wasn’t so bad. We were just letting off steam, that was all.” Truth was, she didn’t know the answer. Of one thing she was sure—she for one felt better for this little bit of gaiety.
The Service Club had a cheerful atmosphere about it. Straight ahead, as they entered, they saw at the back of a fairly large lounging room, a fire in a large open fireplace. From the right, where chairs stood about small tables, came the pleasant odor of hot coffee and chocolate.
As Norma turned to the right she caught the eye of Lieutenant Warren. She was seated alone at a table, sipping coffee. At once she motioned to Norma to come sit across from her. With some hesitation, Norma joined her.
“What will you have? It’s on me,” the Lieutenant smiled.