“No doubt of that, sir,” the man agreed as they parted.
War, Dave thought, was strange.
Chapter XXII
Roll Out the Barrel
Sunday came and with it the knowledge that before dawn of the next day the good ship Queen Bess would be on her way to America. And on that ship would ride Tillie, Peggy and their escort, Cherry.
Early Sunday morning the social worker from the subway and the little red-headed Irish pianist arrived in a car before the door of the Hideout.
“All the people of our subway have read in the paper about your trip to America,” the social worker said to Cherry. “They want you to attend a farewell party.”
“But I can’t sing. Can’t even speak out loud,” Cherry whispered.
“We know that,” exclaimed the little redhead. “They know it and are sorry for you. But you can still smile.”
“Yes.” Cherry proved her answer by a happy smile.
“That’s all that matters,” exclaimed the social worker. “Then you will come?”