After that she sat looking at her father’s picture. From his square shoulders and his twinkling gray eyes she drew strength. She seemed to feel again his hand on her shoulder as he said in his slow calm voice, “You’re the only boy I’ve got. Thank God they’re giving you a chance. I know you’ll do your duty as a good soldier.”
“No,” she whispered, “I’m not sorry. I’m glad.”
One thing she decided before she fell asleep in that big comfortable bed. This was that she would cease playing the part of an F.B.I. agent and start being a real WAC.
“I’ll put this Lena business out of my life,” she whispered. “This is the end of it forever and ever.”
Did some sprite whisper, “Oh, no, sister! No you won’t!” If so, it was all lost on her, for she had fallen fast asleep. But if there was a sprite hovering about and he did say that, he would have spoken the truth. There are some things that just won’t be put out of our lives.
When she awoke the sun was shining in her window. It was Sunday morning. But she was not thinking of that. Instead, a question had popped into her head. How had that man known she was a WAC? He had not seen her. The place had been completely dark. There could be but one answer—by the sense of feeling. He had gripped her arm. He had recognized the feel of her soft wool WAC uniform. And how had he come to know the feel of fine wool? Here too there could be but one answer—Lena. It was strange.
On the following Monday Norma was asked to take charge of the drilling of her company.
“I realize that this is an unusual request,” the officer in charge said soberly. “But this is an unusual war, and ours an unusual organization. For that reason we must perform unusual tasks.
“We are short of officers. The Army camps are constantly calling for more and more of our workers. They go out in small groups. An officer goes with each group. So now you see how it is.” She smiled. “What do you say?”
“I—I’ll try it.” Norma agreed.