“Gale! You are a mess!” said a voice from behind her. “Your face is black and your hair is flying wild.”
“Who cares?” Gale laughed hoarsely. “The soldiers have a song they sing. I don’t like it, but it fits just now:
“What makes the wild WACS wild, Bill? What makes the wild WACS wild?” she sang.
“They’re wild because they’re wild, Bill.”
“They’re wild because they’re wild,” Jan chimed in, “They’re wild because they’re wild.”
“Look!” Gale exclaimed suddenly. “Who’s boss here?”
“You are, of course.” Jan’s chin dropped.
“Then why didn’t you go down in that cellar as I commanded you to?”
“Listen!” said Jan. “What did you do when your father was a sheriff and got into a fight?”
“I climbed onto a chair, of course. He was my daddy.”