“No—I—”
“But you see, I have one,” Sally went on. “I suppose I could be sent home for keeping it, but I’m going to chance it. I—I’ve just got to. It—it’s terribly important that I keep it. It—well, you can see it’s not like other radios. It’s got—”
“Red eyes,” the other girl said in a low voice.
“Yes, but that’s not all. You couldn’t listen to a program on it if you tried. It—it’s very different. There are only two others like it in all the world.”
“I see,” said the new girl.
“No, you don’t, see at all,” Sally declared. “You couldn’t possibly. The only question right now is: will you share my secret? Can I count on you?”
“Yes,” the black-haired girl replied simply. And she meant just that. Sally was sure of it.
“Thanks, heaps.” Her eyes shone. “You won’t be sorry. Whatever may happen you’ll not be dragged into it.
“And,” she added after a pause, “there’s nothing really wrong about it, I’m a loyal American citizen, too loyal perhaps, but you see, my father was in the World War, Grandfather at Manila Bay, and all that.”
“My father died in France,” the large, dark-eyed girl said simply. “I was too young to recall him.”