Next morning Sally awoke with mingled feelings of joy, sorrow, and fear. She was glad that the secret radio had proved to be so great a boon. Old C. K. could die happy. He had achieved a great success and this would not go unrewarded.
She was sorry about Danny. She would miss him terribly. “It’s not a case of love,” she told herself almost fiercely, “We’re just good pals, that’s all.” She did not believe in that word love. It could stand for so much and so little. A stuffy night on a dance floor—that, for some, was love. Men loved their ladies so well they killed them so no one else would get them. Bah! The word might as well be marked out of the dictionary. Perhaps the Old Man’s yeoman thought she was in love with Danny. Who could tell?
Danny Watched the Last Little Traveler Pass
It was this same yeoman, Erma Stone, who sent a shudder running through her being.
“I won’t think of it!” She sprang from her berth to turn on the secret radio. Turning the dials, first this one, then that, for some time, she caught nothing.
“Subs are far away this morning,” she reported to Riggs in the radio room, as she passed on her way for coffee, bacon, and toast.
“That’s fine, Sally!” he beamed. “Keep up the good work. As long as the weather remains fair that secret radio of yours will be your assignment, yours and Nancy’s. Don’t sit over it all the time, but tune in for a few minutes every hour. We can’t afford to take chances.”
“Okay, Chief,” was her cheerful reply.