The boys cheered perceptibly. Here was at last some one who spoke a
Christian tongue.
"Must have taken the wrong turning, miss," said one of them, saluting.
"Where do you want to go?" she asked. "You are very close to the Belgian
Front here. It is not at all safe."
They all saluted; then, staring at her curiously, told her.
"Dear me!" said Sara Lee. "You are a long way off. And a long way
from home too."
They smiled. They looked, with their clean-shaven faces, absurdly young
after the bearded Belgian soldiers.
"I am an American, too," said Sara Lee with just a touch of homesickness
in her voice. She had been feeling lonely lately. "If you have time to
come in I could give you luncheon. Rene can tell us if any German air
machines come over."
Would they come in? Indeed, yes! They crawled down off the lorry, and
took off their caps, and ate every particle of food in the house. And,
though they were mutely curious at first, soon they were asking questions.
How long had she been there? What did she do? Wasn't it dangerous?
"Not so dangerous as it looks," said Sara Lee, smiling. "The Germans
seldom bother the town now. It is not worth while."
Later on they went over the house. They climbed the broken staircase
and stared toward the break in the poplar trees, from the roofless floor
above.
"Some girl!" one of them said in an undertone.
The others were gazing intently toward the Front. Never before had they
been so close. Never had they seen a ruined town. War, until now, had
been a thing of Valcartier, of a long voyage, of much drill in the mud
at Salisbury Plain. Now here they saw, at their feet, what war could do.
"Damn them!" said one of the boys suddenly. "Fellows, we'll get back at
them soon."
So they went away, a trifle silent and very grateful. But before they
left they had a glimpse of Sara Lee's room, with the corner gone, and
Harvey's picture on the mantel.
"Some girl!" they repeated as they drove up the street. It was the
tribute of inarticulate youth.
Sara Lee went back to her bandages and her thoughts. She had not a great
deal of time to think, what with the officers stopping in to fight their
paper-and-pin battles, and with letters to write and dressings to make
and supplies to order. She began to have many visitors--officers from
the French lines, correspondents on tours of the Front, and once even an
English cabinet member, who took six precious lumps of sugar in his tea
and dug a piece of shell out of the wall with his pocketknife as a
souvenir.