“Yes, of course. I’m a WAVE.”
“Oh! A lady soldier?”
“No, a lady sailor,” Sally laughed.
“Then you were in the convoy that just came in.” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How many of your ships did they get?”
Sally hesitated. She looked the woman over. She was English from head to toe. She was old and tired, hungry, too, yet she dared be cheerful. She wanted good news. Well, then, she should have it.
“Not a ship,” she whispered.
“Oh, then you brought us good luck,” the old woman cackled joyously. “You must come again and again.”
“I think I shall,” said Sally. “It’s been truly wonderful.
“And terrible,” she whispered to herself when the old woman had moved on.
Sally put a hand in her coat pocket, then laughed low. In that pocket was a present for someone.