They walked up the broad path that lay between two rows of stately palms. Judy led Mary to her own room, that she might wash and brush up, then hurried away to ask about a phone call.
“No call yet,” she said, as she returned.
“Listen!” Mary held up a hand. From the sky came a thunder of sound.
“Big planes, a lot of them! Come on!” Seizing Judy’s hand, Mary dragged her outside.
There, looking up, they saw a large formation of heavy bombers. All but breathless, Mary began to count. “Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight,” she ended. “Judy! That’s the flight Sparky and I started out with. We’re going to have company over the mountains!”
“And you’re going to need it,” Judy said soberly.
Had Mary consulted her own wishes, she would have hurried away to the airport, but courtesy decreed that she remain at Judy’s tea, so Judy’s tea it was, and not so bad after all.
There were twenty-three teachers in the group waiting to welcome Mary on the large, cool porch of the teachers’ home. Some had gray hair and some, like Judy, were young. One and all they were eager to know more about the war and the lands they had left behind.
When tea had been served and they had chatted informally for a short time, they led Mary to a large, easy chair, and bolstered her up with cushions.
“Now,” said the dean, “you are our queen. We each and every one of us demand an audience.”