Vera Parsons, a member of the Motor Corps, who drove the station wagon around to collect the girls for the USO parties, honked before Kitty had quite finished dressing. She threw her coat around her shoulders, caught up the skirt of the fluffy evening dress of pale yellow, and hurried toward the front door.
She felt buoyantly happy as she kissed Billy good night and joined the girls. Life had become an interesting adventure once more, with a goal to work toward. She had the happy feeling of one who had at last found a niche into which she fitted perfectly.
Kitty had been to only one other USO dance, for she had been in no mood for parties when she first joined her father on the island. She missed her Aunt Nina too keenly. It was Vera Parsons who made her realize these dances were not like most others. She would not be going merely for her own pleasure, but to help the boys forget they were homesick and lonely and still had a big job ahead of them.
“You know they won’t allow just any sort of girl to go to these dances,” Vera told her. “Only those of the highest caliber. They’re not always easy to find, especially on an island as small as Palmetto. We need all the nice girls we can get to help us out.”
So Kitty had attended the dance last Tuesday, and enjoyed it immensely. It was then she had noticed, though only casually, the Snack Bar which the Canteen operated. Tonight she planned to give the bar more than a brief inspection, and to get acquainted with the workers.
Vera knew all the girls and introduced Kitty. She had been on the island a year and was acquainted with everyone who was helping with war work. Vera was a most capable girl, large and rather muscular, but with such a wholesome attitude Kitty warmed to her at once. She had come upon her the first time on a sandy road running through a palmetto thicket. Vera was changing a tire with as much ease as a garage mechanic. Kitty later learned that she was the type of girl who doesn’t hesitate to put her hands to any task. Her reddish brown hair, snapping brown eyes and gusty manner won her friends wherever she went.
“Well, Kitty Carter’s soon going to be one of you!” was her method of introducing the Canteen candidate to the girls behind the Snack Bar. “Kitty, this is Mrs. Evans. She’s Chairman of the Corps over here, and this is Sally Bright and Judy Conner.”
“We’ll surely be glad to have you,” spoke up Mrs. Evans, a thin, sprightly woman in her fifties. Though much older than the other two, she was still young enough in spirit to be comradely.
“I can hardly wait to begin my training,” said Kitty, perching on one of the stools, and leaning her elbows on the counter.
“When do you start?” asked Sally.