“You don’t have to be terrible to be of some use in the world,” she protested. “Many a gale has moved a big ship.
“You might like to know,” she confided, “That when the time comes, I’m going to Burma with the colonel and his army on his way back—his march of triumph.”
“How nice!” said Jimmie. “Does the colonel know?”
“Not yet, so don’t breathe a word of it.”
“I won’t, but I’ve heard that it’s going to be hard for any woman to get a ride on that trip. There’s going to be a lot of hard fighting.”
“So the WACS will be left behind where it’s safe.” Her voice was filled with scorn. “The clan I belong to goes places and does things. My father was sheriff once in one of the fightingest counties of the Cumberland Mountains in old Kentucky.”
“Is that right? Tell me about it.” Jimmie was all attention.
“I don’t remember too much of it. I was only twelve then. We didn’t stay long, just long enough to sort of clean things up.”
“You and your Dad?” He laughed low.
“Just Dad, that time.” She joined in the laugh. “But we’ve done things together since. And we’d do them again over here.” Her voice went husky. “Dad’s a little bit of all right, but he’s over age and they wouldn’t take him.”