“They have chartered a boat to carry refugee children to America. I was discussing the sending of Peggy and Tillie this very morning. The welfare workers wish to send a grown person with each group of ten children to look after them, direct their play, keep them cheerful and happy. Cherry, you shall be one of these. I shall see to it at once.”
“But mother!” Cherry’s whisper was pathetic. “It’s so sudden. I must have time to think.”
“Very well,” said her mother, dismissing the whole affair for a moment by a wave of her hand. “Think as much as you please until this time tomorrow.”
And so now Cherry, as she walked slowly toward the village, was thinking hard. Could she do it? Leave Alice, Brand, and Dave, all her friends to embark on this strange adventure? She had a horror of the sea, yet, if she went she must be cheerful all the way. “It’s the war,” she was thinking. “When there is a war we have no choice. Duty calls. We must go.”
Rounding a curve, a young cyclist came rushing toward her. He slowed up when he was near. It was Brand. There was a look on his face she had seldom seen there before.
“Going home?” she asked simply.
“No. Just for a ride.”
A question was on her lips. She did not ask it. There are times when we do not ask questions of those we love.
“I’m going to the village,” she said simply. “Perhaps I’ll meet you on the way back.”
“Perhaps.” Again he was on his wheel and away.