Solution Manual for Fundamentals of Corporate Finance Canadian

9th Edition by Ross ISBN 1259087581 9781259087585

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CHAPTER 2
FINANCIAL STATEMENTS, TAXES, AND CASH FLOWS
Learning Objectives

LO1 The difference between accounting value (or “book” value) and market value.
LO2 The difference between accounting income and cash flow.
LO3 How to determine a firm’s cash flow from its financial statements.
LO4 The difference between average and marginal tax rates.
LO5 The basics of Capital Cost Allowance (CCA) and Undepreciated Capital Cost (UCC).
Answers to Concepts Review and Critical Thinking Questions

1. (LO1) Liquidity measures how quickly and easily an asset can be converted to cash without significant
loss in value. It’s desirable for firms to have high liquidity so that they have a large factor of safety in
meeting short-term creditor demands. However, since liquidity also has an opportunity cost associated with
it— namely that higher returns can generally be found by investing the cash into productive assets—low
liquidity levels are also desirable to the firm. It’s up to the firm’s financial management staff to find a
reasonable compromise between these opposing needs.

2. (LO2) The recognition and matching principles in financial accounting call for revenues, and the costs
associated with producing those revenues, to be “booked” when the revenue process is essentially
complete, not necessarily when the cash is collected or bills are paid. Note that this way is not necessarily
incorrect; it’s the way accountants have chosen to do it.

3. (LO1) Historical costs can be objectively and precisely measured whereas market values can be difficult to
estimate, and different analysts would come up with different numbers. Thus, there is a tradeoff between
relevance (market values) and objectivity (book values).

4. (LO3) Depreciation is a noncash deduction that reflects adjustments made in asset book values in
accordance with the matching principle in financial accounting. Interest expense is a cash outlay, but it’s a
financing cost, not an operating cost.

5. (LO1) Market values for corporations can never be negative. Imagine a share of stock selling for –$20.
This would mean that if you placed an order for 100 shares, you would get the stock along with a check for
$2,000. How many shares do you want to buy? More generally, because of corporate bankruptcy laws, net
worth for a corporation cannot be negative, implying that liabilities cannot exceed assets in market value.
6. (LO3) For a successful company that is rapidly expanding, for example, capital outlays will be large,
possibly leading to negative cash flow from assets. In general, what matters is whether the money is spent
wisely, not whether cash flow from assets is positive or negative.

7. (LO3) It’s probably not a good sign for an established company, but it would be fairly ordinary for a start-
up, so it depends.

8. (LO3) For example, if a company were to become more efficient in inventory management, the amount of
inventory needed would decline. The same might be true if it becomes better at collecting its receivables.
In general, anything that leads to a decline in ending NWC relative to beginning would have this effect.
Negative net capital spending would mean more long-lived assets were liquidated than purchased.

S2-1
9. (LO3) If a company raises more money from selling stock than it pays in dividends in a particular period,
its cash flow to stockholders will be negative. If a company borrows more than it pays in interest, its cash
flow to creditors will be negative.

10. (LO1) Enterprise value is the theoretical takeover price. In the event of a takeover, an acquirer would have
to take on the company's debt, but would pocket its cash. Enterprise value differs significantly from simple
market capitalization in several ways, and it may be a more accurate representation of a firm's value. In a
takeover, the value of a firm's debt would need to be paid by the buyer when taking over a company. This
enterprise value provides a much more accurate takeover valuation because it includes debt in its value
calculation.

Solutions to Questions and Problems

Basic

1. (LO1) To find shareholder’s equity, we must construct a Statement of Financial Position as follows:

Statement of Financial Position

CA $ 4,900 CL $4,200
NFA 27,500 LTD 10,500
SE ??
TA $32,400 TL&SE $ 32,400

We know that total liabilities and owner’s equity (TL & SE) must equal total assets of $32,400. We also
know that TL & SE is equal to current liabilities plus long-term debt plus shareholder’s equity, so
shareholder’s equity is:

SE = $32,400 – 4,200 – 10,500 = $17,700

NWC = CA – CL = $4,900 – 4,200 = $700

2. (LO1) The Statement of Comprehensive Income for the company is:

Statement of Comprehensive Income

Sales $734,000
Costs 315,000
Depreciation 48,000
EBIT $371,000
Interest 35,000
EBT $336,000
Taxes (35%) 117,600
Net income $218,400

3. (LO1) One equation for net income is:

Net income = Dividends + Addition to retained earnings

Rearranging, we get:
Addition to retained earnings = Net income – Dividends = $218,400 – 85,000 = $133,400

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4. (LO1)
EPS = Net income / Shares = $218,400 / 110,000 = $1.985 per share
DPS = Dividends / Shares = $85,000 / 110,000 = $0.773 per share

5. (LO1)
NWC = CA – CL;
CA = $380K + 1.1M = $1.48M

Book value CA = $1.48M Market value CA = $1.6M

Book value NFA = $3.7M Market value NFA = $4.9M
Book value assets= $1.48M + 3.7M = $5.18M Market value assets = $1.6M + 4.9M = $6.5M

6. (LO4)
Tax bill = 0.14 x $255,000 = $35,700

7. (LO4) The average tax rate is the total tax paid divided by net income, so:

Average tax rate = $33,040 / $236,000 = 14%

The marginal tax rate is the tax rate on the next $1 of earnings, so again the marginal tax rate = 14%
because this corporation has earnings well below $500,000. If the firm had an income of $500,000, its
marginal tax rate will rise to 25% for its next dollar of income.

8. (LO3) To calculate OCF, we first need the Statement of Comprehensive Income:

Statement of Comprehensive Income

Sales $39,500
Costs 18,400
Depreciation 1,900
EBIT $ 19,200
Interest 1,400
Taxable income $17,800
Taxes (35%) $6,230
Net income $11,570

OCF = EBIT + Depreciation – Taxes = $19,200+ 1,900 – 6,230 = $14,870

9. (LO3)
Net capital spending = NFAend – NFAbeg + Depreciation
Net capital spending = $3.6M – 2.8M + 0.345 M
Net capital spending = $1.145M

10. (LO3)
Change in NWC = NWCend – NWCbeg
Change in NWC = (CAend – CLend) – (CAbeg – CLbeg)
Change in NWC = ($3,460– 1,980) – ($3,120 – 1,570)
Change in NWC = $1,480 – 1,550 = -$70

11. (LO3)
Cash flow to creditors = Interest paid – Net new borrowing
Cash flow to creditors = Interest paid – (LTDend – LTDbeg)
Cash flow to creditors = $190K – ($2.55– 2.3M)
Cash flow to creditors = $190K -
250K Cash flow to creditors = -$60K

S2-3
12. (LO3)
Cash flow to shareholders = Dividends paid – Net new equity
Cash flow to shareholders = $490K – [Commonend – Commonbeg]
Cash flow to shareholders = $490K – [$815K – $740K ]
Cash flow to shareholders = $490K – [$75K] = $415K

Intermediate

13. (LO3)
Cash flow from assets = Cash flow to creditors + Cash flow to shareholders
= $-60K + 415K = $355K
Cash flow from assets = $355K = OCF – Change in NWC – Net capital spending
= $355K = OCF – (–55K) – 1,300K
Operating cash flow = $355K – 55K + 1,300K
Operating cash flow = $1,600K

14. (LO3) To find the OCF, we first calculate net income.

Statement of Comprehensive Income

Sales $235,000
Costs 141,000
Depreciation 17,300
Other expenses 7,900
EBIT $68,800
Interest 12,900
Taxable income $55,900
Taxes 19,565
Net income $36,335

Dividends $12,300
Additions to RE $24,035

a. OCF = EBIT + Depreciation – Taxes = $68,800 + 17,300 – 19,565 = $66,535

b. CFC = Interest – Net new LTD = $12,900 – (–4,500) = $17,400

Note that the net new long-term debt is negative because the company repaid part of its long-
term debt.

c. CFS = Dividends – Net new equity = $12,300 – 6,100= $6,200

d. We know that CFA = CFC + CFS, so:

CFA = $17,400 + 6,200 = $23,600

CFA is also equal to OCF – Net capital spending – Change in NWC. We already know OCF. Net
capital spending is equal to:

Net capital spending = Increase in NFA + Depreciation = $25,000 + $17,300 = $42,300

Now we can use:

CFA = OCF – Net capital spending – Change in NWC

$23,600 = $66,535 – $42,300 – Change in NWC
Change in NWC = $23,600 - $66,535 + $42,300

S2-4
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educated at the Charleston Military Academy before going to West Point.
In Charleston he had known some friends of Nona’s and had been
introduced to her, meeting her, perhaps, only a few times afterward. For
even as a boy, Jack Martin had been supposed to be either very shy or
very disdainful of girls. He did not seem to have the least natural interest
in them. Yet he really knew almost nothing of women, having been
brought up by a bachelor uncle, who was himself a soldier, and this may
have accounted for his ungraciousness.
Both he and Nona were surprised, upon seeing each other, into
acknowledging their former acquaintance. Neither really intended it.
Afterward, Lieutenant Martin had really regretted the accidental meeting,
since it had drawn him into situations a little like the present one.
Hugh Kelley and he were on the railroad platform, when the sight of four
American Red Cross nurses, standing together and apparently waiting to
take the same train, had attracted their attention.
Yet introducing Hugh had been the real complication. He could scarcely
be accused of disliking girls.
However, he continued to stand at the door of the compartment waiting
for Lieutenant Martin as his superior officer to open the conversation and
explain their presence.
“I, we,” Lieutenant Martin began stiffly, and then stopped, as if he never
were to go on.
Then he turned to the younger man.
“Do, Kelley, speak for us both, won’t you? Give an excuse for our
appearance. For if you are not an Irishman, with that name of yours, your
ancestors surely were.”
Hugh Kelley laughed.
“Oh, the situation isn’t so serious; please don’t be alarmed. It is only that
Lieutenant Martin is so in the habit of issuing commands lately that he
does not know how to ask a favor. And it’s a favor I be after askin’,”
Hugh continued, breaking into a fairly poor imitation of the Irish brogue,
somewhat to Mollie Drew’s amusement.
“You see, I have been feeling rather homesick for the past few hours, so I
mustered up courage to ask our Colonel if Lieutenant Martin and I could
come in here to talk to you. I told him, Miss Davis—hope you do not
mind—that you and Lieutenant Martin were old childhood friends; kind
of boy and girl business, you know the kind. So the Colonel said we
might come if I brought Martin along, and if we did not mention the fact
to any of the other fellows in our car for fear of starting a riot in your
direction. So I dragged Martin with me.” Hugh ended with a perfectly
deliberate intention of confusing his superior officer, perhaps in revenge
for past severities.
Then he dropped down into a seat between Barbara Thornton and Mollie
Drew.
“I say, isn’t this good luck? Anyhow, it is more than I deserve,” he
concluded boyishly.
Lieutenant Martin took a place beside Nona. He appeared really more
uncomfortable than necessary.
“I should like to court-martial Kelley for that speech, Miss Davis. How
can I possibly talk to you with such a beginning?”
 CHAPTER IV
With the American Army in France
“BUT, Gene, the hospital is so perfect in every detail! I don’t see how
you have managed and it is so fine to be working here in France with
you again. But best of all, you don’t seem to have changed and I was
afraid——”
Nona ended her speech abruptly, not having intended making this final
remark.
Three or four hours before she and Barbara Thornton and the two other
Red Cross nurses had arrived at the new hospital, set aside for the care of
the American soldiers of which Eugenia, Madame Henri Castaigne was
in charge.
For the first two hours Eugenia had been too occupied to do more than
greet her old friends and make the acquaintance of the new girls. But
since dinner she had been showing the four of them over the hospital.
So far there were not a great many patients, only a few of the soldiers
with not very serious illnesses, so they were receiving the most devoted
attention.
Then, after their survey of the hospital, Eugenia and Mildred Thornton
with the four newcomers had gone up to their own rooms.
The nurses’ rooms were on the top floor of the building, which had once
been a private country place, converted, largely under Eugenia’s
direction, into a modern hospital.
Instead of occupying one long room like a hospital ward, it was one of
Eugenia’s ideas that the Red Cross nurses required privacy and quiet
after the long strain of their work. So the space had been divided into
small apartments, two girls in each room. Nona and Eugenia were to
have one, Barbara Thornton and Mildred Thornton, her sister-in-law, the
one adjoining, while Mollie Drew and Agatha Burton were across the
hall. The half dozen other nurses had the same arrangements.
At Nona’s last words, Eugenia Castaigne’s face had changed in
expression slightly, but she made no reference to what the words had
implied. However, Nona remembered that Mildred Thornton had already
written and had also told them, that Eugenia never discussed Captain
Castaigne’s disappearance and no one knew what her real feeling was, or
even if she believed her husband dead.
Just now and then in this world of ours and but very rarely, one may be a
witness to what may well be called the miracle of love.
Eugenia’s marriage to Captain Castaigne was one of these miracles. The
surprise of his caring for her when she considered herself so unworthy,
the charm of his companionship, although they had seen each other
seldom, whatever it was, the fulfillment of the best in her, which comes
to some women only through marriage had come to Eugenia. This she
could never lose. So the somewhat narrow-minded, even if intelligent
and conscientious, old maid had disappeared forever and Eugenia, or
Madame Eugenie, as the French people called her, was one of the most
gracious and sympathetic of women.
Moreover, she had a genius for hospital work. Whatever demands she
might make upon her assistants under the pressure of necessity, she was
never unjust and never spared herself, two great traits in the fine
executive nature.
“Oh, I am all right and never more interested than in our American
hospital, Nona. I thought I could never care for any soldiers as I have for
the gallant French poilus, always gay and full of courage even to the end.
But now when I think of our American boys coming on this long journey
to fight for the triumph of Christ’s idea of human equality—for that is
what, in its largest sense, this war against Germany means—well,
perhaps I am too much of an enthusiast.
“But there I am on my present hobby and I did wish to talk just of
personal matters this first night.”
Eugenia had raised her arms and was taking down her long, heavy brown
hair.
It was only about eight o’clock in the evening, but the four friends had
planned to undress and have the hours before bedtime for a long talk.
In the next room Barbara was re-reading a letter which she had found
waiting for her at the hospital, written by her husband. She and her
sister-in-law were discussing this and other family matters.
Nona had already undressed and put on her dressing gown, a lovely blue
silk negligée which Sonya had given her, since Sonya now insisted on
Nona’s having pretty clothes. She was now half sitting, half lying on the
bed with her pale yellow hair rippling over the pillow.
Eugenia turned to put on her own lavender dressing gown and then stood
looking down on the other girl.
“Tell me, Nona—of course I understand you don’t have to confess unless
you wish—but you know I have often wondered; are you especially
interested in anyone? So far, you alone of our group of four Red Cross
girls seems to have escaped, and I certainty never dreamed in those early
days that both Barbara and I would be married, Mildred engaged and you
remain free. Is it because you are too much of a Fra Angelico angel (who
was it who used to insist you looked like one?) to feel ordinary
emotions?”
Nona laughed, glad that Eugenia could discuss this particular subject in
so cheerful and natural a fashion, yet changing color slightly.
“Do you wish me to confess, Gene, that I am so much less attractive?
Because, after all, that must be the truth.”
Nona tried to keep her voice perfectly steady and her eyes directly
regarding Gene’s. Nevertheless, to her own annoyance she found that
Eugenia’s question had brought back the memory of Eugino Zoli and the
last night in the old Italian garden. Again she wondered if he had ever
really cared for her.
Something in her expression may have betrayed her, for Eugenia
changed the subject.
“Don’t you think Mildred is keeping up wonderfully well when she hears
so little news of General Alexis? He is still a prisoner and must remain
one until the new government discovers that in spite of his personal
friendship for the former Czar, he believes in democracy. It seems rather
a pity at present that they must lose the services of so fine an officer. But,
by the way, Nona, I meant to tell you, I had a letter from a friend of
yours, a Dr. Latham. He wrote me he had not seen you in the United
States, but that Sonya had told him you were coming to me. He seems to
feel he would like to help us here at our American hospitals, not his one
alone, but wherever he may be most useful. Of course I know him by
reputation.”
Nona frowned slightly.
“Oh, I was not sure Dr. Latham had returned from Italy, although he did
not intend to stay after he had been able to teach his new treatments of
wounds to the Italian surgeons. He is a wonderful surgeon, but a great
bear of a man, and in a way I am sorry if he is to come here. He took up
such a lot of my time in Florence.”
But at this instant Barbara Thornton made a pretense of knocking on the
door, although she entered without waiting for a reply.
“Don’t you and Nona think it would be wiser for all four of us to be in
the same room when we talk, Gene, instead of having to repeat
everything we say? I have just had a most cheerful and agreeable letter
from Dick. But do you suppose that husband of mine deigns to tell me
where he is? This ‘somewhere in France’ address must get on a good
many people’s nerves. But he need not be afraid I shall try to look him
up or interrupt him. I expect to be as busy as he is.”
Barbara took hold of Eugenia by one hand and drew her to a seat beside
her on the bed.
“Hope I shall be a more satisfactory Red Cross nurse this time than I was
at the beginning, Gene. Remember, you wished to send me home then?
But you always were wonderful. Do you know, I think you were
intended to be a Mother Superior or a Lady Abbess, if you had lived in
other days, Gene? As it is, I would rather work under you as a Red Cross
nurse than any other woman in Europe.”
“Don’t be a goose, Bab,” Madame Castaigne returned with just a
sufficient reminder of her one-time severity to make the three other
nurses, including Barbara, smile.
“But there, I can’t remember you are a married woman with a baby
child. It was fine of you to come over to us to help, under the
circumstances.”
Barbara hesitated and flushed. “I don’t wish to sail under false colors,
Gene, with you or Mildred or Nona. I think I came to Europe half
because Dick is here and the other half because I wish to help. Do you
think I can ever manage to see him? I couldn’t have endured his being so
far away.”
Barbara looked so absurdly childish and forlorn that both Nona and
Mildred were amused. It was Gene these days who understood.
“Of course you will, Bab. Dick may even be helping with the ambulance
work not far from here some time. In any case I expect we can manage a
meeting. But if you children are not too tired tomorrow I want to take
you over to our American camp. I have special permission for us to be
shown as much as we have time to see. Later the officers may not wish
us and also we may be too busy. It is all so wonderful and inspiring.”
Eugenia ceased talking and for an instant no one spoke. This was
because they all heard a curious noise just outside the closed door, one
that puzzled Nona and Barbara. However, the next instant the door
swung slowly open and a great silver-gray figure entered the little room
and padded softly up to Eugenia and there stood gravely regarding the
two newcomers.
“This is our American hospital mascot. You remember Monsieur Le Duc,
or Duke as we used to call him, don’t you, Nona, you and Bab? After
Henri disappeared, in the most curious fashion, without anyone being
able to explain how he could have known, Duke grew so utterly
wretched my mother-in-law wrote me she thought the poor fellow would
die. So I went back to the château to see him. He grew better then, but I
had to bring him away with me. He never leaves me when it is possible
to be near. I think he has an idea he must take care of me. At first I was
afraid he was going to be a nuisance, but wherever I have been the
soldiers have adored him. Come, Duke, won’t you speak to your old
friends?”
And, as if he had only been waiting for Eugenia’s suggestion, the great
dog walked softly over first to Nona and then to Bab, gravely extending
his paw to each of them in turn.
“You look older, don’t you, poor old Duke,” Bab whispered, putting her
brown head down on the dog’s silver-gray one. “Here is hoping for
happier days!”
But she said this so that Eugenia did not hear her. Aloud she announced:
“I should think I would like to see the American camp. I never imagined
such a privilege. You know, Gene, there was the dearest young officer
whom we met on the train, a Kentucky boy. He said he was awfully
anxious to introduce some of his brother officers to me, only he did not
see how he was ever to manage, the regulations were so severe.”
Nona raised herself up on one elbow.
“Barbara Thornton, kindly remember you are married and Eugenia
merely said she wished to show us the American camp, not to entertain
us by having us meet the soldiers. Really, you know I never approved of
your coming over to nurse again, but I did not anticipate this particular
form of frivolity, considering that Mildred is your sister-in-law.”
Barbara looked so extremely comfortable at this accusation that both
Eugenia and Mildred laughed, and this was what Nona had hoped for,
since Duke’s unexpected appearance had brought back memories
difficult to take lightly.
The American hospital, where the four American Red Cross girls and
their new companions were to work, was at the edge of one of the
villages in which the great permanent war camp for the United States
soldiers had been located.
Yet one could scarcely say the camp had been located in the village,
since it not only included the French village, but also covered the
surrounding country on all sides. In the little French houses of frame and
plaster the officers and as many of the soldiers as possible were
quartered. But wherever it was necessary, with the number of men
increasing each day, barracks were being built by the soldiers themselves
and their French comrades, while a few tents dotted the fields like a
sudden up-springing of giant mushrooms.
Not long after daylight next morning Eugenia, Mildred Thornton and the
four new nurses started for the village.
They wished to be in time for the morning drill. A moment or so before
their arrival, a little way off they heard the clear, sharp call of the bugle
and then the tramping of many thousands of feet.
After a sentry had investigated her permit, Eugenia led the way to the
roof of one of the little French houses. She seemed to know its occupants
and to have received permission beforehand. The roof was not flat, few
roofs of the houses in French villages are, though one finds them almost
always with the broad straight roofs in the larger apartment dwellings in
Paris. But this small house had a little balcony at the top, and steep steps,
almost like a ladder, leading from the inside.
From the balcony one could see the great drill ground, where the United
States troops were now forming in lines.
Over the fields of France floated the Stars and Stripes.
But the American girls, who had lately arrived, could not see plainly, for
the mist in their eyes.
 CHAPTER V
Introductions
BUT when the drill was over the American girls did not come down
from their place of observation. There was still so much of absorbing
interest. The soldiers, having completed this work, had still more
important training to be gone through with during the morning.
The girls were able to watch a number of them learning to throw hand
grenades, small bombs not much larger than oranges. The practice
bombs were not explosive, nevertheless Barbara and Nona and Mollie
Drew found themselves intensely interested. They had almost the
sensations of enthusiastic baseball fans, for the American boys showed
such skill with the grenades, that their boyhood playing of the national
game must have been of value.
Other soldiers were working at trench digging and farther along on the
artillery practice range big guns were being moved, trained on their
target and made ready for firing with amazing swiftness. Beyond was
also an aviation camp, scarcely discernible because of the distance. Here
other American boys were completing their final lessons in air fighting,
preparing themselves to rival the gallant Lafayette corps of American
airmen in the service of France, who had become world famous for their
amazing feats of valor and skill.
But most extraordinary of all the spectacles to the Red Cross nurses was
the encampment of “tanks.” These giant monsters were rolling about on
their parade ground, looking like prehistoric monsters. The soldiers were
like midgets beside them. They lumbered along like huge turtles carrying
houses on their backs and climbing great objects, set in their paths, as if
they did not exist.
However, there are scenes to which one is now and then a witness which
may be too overwhelming. Actually one sees and feels so much that the
eyes and mind and even the emotions become exhausted.
Mollie Drew was the first of the six girls to feel she could endure no
more. She had seen such tremendous things and, moreover, had gone
through with such a conflict of sensations, joy that the American soldiers
were now to play a great part in the world struggle and sorrow over the
inevitable tragedies which must befall them, and a strong urge that they
learn these final lessons in making war soon as possible, that they might
get into the fight and have it all over with, perhaps, before another year.
So that by and by, Mollie began to feel not only tired but almost
exhausted. Yet she did not wish to interrupt the others nor to ask any one
of them to return to the hospital with her.
She could overhear Eugenia talking to Agatha Burton and had seldom
seen Agatha so animated or in earnest.
“No, I cannot tell you how many American troops have arrived in
France. No one outside the government is informed. But in any case it
would be impossible, as new contingents of soldiers are reaching France
almost every day.”
Mollie caught the sense of this speech, but realized that each word was
becoming more and more indistinct. She had a stupid habit of
occasionally growing faint, but not for a great deal would she have
Madame Castaigne discover her weakness so soon after her journeying
to France for the Red Cross nursing.
If she could only get down the narrow staircase and away from the others
before she was observed! Mollie could not of course realize how
completely her usual bright color had faded. She took a few steps and at
the top of the stairs caught hold of the narrow railing.
But, fortunately for Mollie, although she was not aware of it, Barbara
Thornton had been watching her for the past few moments.
She had noticed Mollie becoming steadily paler until the little freckles,
which were ordinarily inconspicuous, showed plain, had seen the
peculiar strained look in Mollie’s deep gray eyes. Also, she understood
that Mollie would not wish to create a scene and above all wished to
avoid Eugenia’s attention.
So, when Mollie moved away, Barbara moved quietly after her, placing
her arm firmly about the other girl’s waist.
“Miss Drew and I are tired and are going down; we will wait for you,
don’t hurry,” she called back.
As a matter of fact, as soon as she reached the landing, Mollie did feel
almost herself again. She wished to go outdoors at once, but Barbara
insisted that they find a place to sit down and rest.
The stairs from the tower ended in a tiny hall and opposite was a room
with the door open.
Barbara was under the impression that this room was the usual sacred
drawing-room of some French family. But as soon as they crossed the
threshold she appreciated that, whatever the room had been, it was now
being used by American soldiers. There was a variety of boots and army
leggings in one corner, a khaki coat swung over a chair and a disordered
table covered with American books and papers. Dust and mud were on
the floor.
“I don’t think we ought to intrude in there,” Mollie objected, hesitating
and speaking a little nervously.
But Barbara, who was very difficult to awe, walking calmly in, seated
herself in one of the empty chairs.
“Certainly we must stay here until you are rested and feeling a little
stronger. You can scarcely stand up and I don’t wonder, after being on
your feet for hours, the first day after our trip. I am awfully tired myself.
No one is coming back to this room for the present; the soldiers and
officers are too busy. If anyone does appear we must simply explain. I
am curious anyhow to know how Eugenia managed to bring us here
without introducing us to anyone. Perhaps the French people in this
neighborhood are becoming accustomed to Americans taking possession
of their homes.”
Barbara talked quietly and without any suggestion of possible
embarrassment, really because she had no idea that anyone would
discover them before Eugenia came down.
She was therefore more surprised and embarrassed than Mollie at an
unexpected noise just outside the open door.
However, both girls jumped to their feet looking conscience stricken.
The young solder at the door uttered a low whistle, took off his wide-
brimmed hat and then made a low bow.
“Do you know,” he began, “I was as mad, well, we will say mad as a
March hare, although that was not my original speech over being sent
here to clean up my superior officers’ quarters. I came over to France,
you know, to fight Germans, not to act as a housemaid. But, of course, if
I had any idea that Lieutenant Martin was giving a reception, why before
his guests arrived——”
The young private was over six feet tall, had fine white teeth and broad
shoulders and at this moment his eyes were so full of surprise and
amusement that no one would have thought of their color.
“But we are not guests and we are going right away,” Barbara
stammered. “For goodness sake don’t let anyone else find us here!”
Barbara was older and married and, of course, should have been the
more self-possessed of the two intruders. But somehow Mollie
experienced an immediate understanding and sympathetic appreciation
of the situation existing between her and the newcomer.
“We have been watching the morning drill and afterwards came in here
to rest, not dreaming anyone would discover us at such a time. Did you
say it was a part of your duty to help keep your officers’ quarters in
order. If it is, do you know I don’t think you have been very successful,”
and Mollie’s color returned and her lips parted in a rather pretty Irish
fashion of suddenly turning up at the corners to express amusement, as
she looked around the disordered apartment.
The young man nodded.
“I don’t suppose I could hold my job for a week in your house, would I,
unless you happened to take a fancy to me and wished to show me how
housecleaning is accomplished? You see, before I undertook to be a
soldier, why I’m afraid I belonged to the ‘idle rich’. I did not even know
this business of keeping one’s own possessions in order was a part of
every regular private’s job. I have had some training in the last months,
but I can still shoot straighter and ride better than I can do other things.”
And the young fellow looked in such utter disgust and consternation at
the task ahead of him that Mollie laughed a second time.
“There is to be an inspection of quarters this afternoon and, as the
Lieutenant is busy, I’ve been detailed to have this room shipshape.”
Mollie glanced toward Barbara.
“Suppose we help?” she suggested, “at least until Madame Castaigne and
the others come down. No one will ever know. You see, ‘Monsieur
Sammee,’ (that is what French people are calling you, isn’t it?) if you
were a Red Cross nurse as Mrs. Thornton and I both are, you would
know everything worth knowing of domestic tasks.”
Then, without waiting for Barbara’s agreement, Mollie began
straightening the dusty, disordered table in a quiet, skilful fashion.
The next instant Barbara had joined her at another task and soon the
three of them were hard at work, the young soldier obeying orders.
When Eugenia and Mildred, Nona and Agatha finally looked into the
room to see if Barbara and Mollie could possibly be found in there, they
were for an instant overcome with amazement.
Eugenia was far from pleased. However, the scene was too absurd to
take seriously or to speak reprovingly about.
This time Mollie became embarrassed and past being able to explain the
situation. Moreover, she was conscious that the soldier, whose name she
did not even know and therefore was unable to introduce to Madame
Castaigne, was now laughing at her, although he kept every part of his
face grave except his eyes.
However, Barbara spoke at once.
“Hope we have not done anything very wrong, Eugenia. But you see,
after all, our Red Cross rules are that we succor anyone in distress. We
do not know whom we have helped this time, but he was undoubtedly in
distress.”
At this Barbara turned to the young man, who came forward to speak to
Madame Castaigne. He had recognized her as having charge of one of
the nearby American hospitals.
He gave his name, Guy Ellis, to Eugenia, but of course the others heard
him.
“I don’t know exactly what I am to say to any of you,” Eugenia protested
in answer to Barbara and shaking hands with their new acquaintance,
“because I never dreamed of any such situation. However, I am glad I
discovered you instead of an officer. But please come with me and meet
Madame Bonnèt. She has given up this house of hers to our soldiers, but
she and her daughter, Berthe, are living in a tiny place in the garden. She
is a great friend of mine and managed to get us permission to use her
tower upstairs this morning for watching the drill. She told me no one
would be here, so we would not be a nuisance.”
Eugenia turned to Nona.
“Madame Bonnèt is raising carrier pigeons for the use of the French
army. The ones she has now are to be our American messengers when
we need them.”
Eugenia made no suggestion that the young soldier accompany them, but
he walked on quietly beside Mollie and Barbara. After all, Madame
Bonnèt was his friend as well.
 CHAPTER VI
Carrier Pigeons
BEHIND the officers’ house was a carefully tended little home garden.
There were no flowers, except a few perennials, blooming on
unconscious of the war which for the past three years had been
destroying the land that nourished them.
But between the rows of feathery carrots and the stiff spikes of onions, a
girl was kneeling.
She looked up in surprise at the approach of so large a number of people,
then smiled in response to Eugenia’s greeting, although she did not rise
immediately.
She wore a smock of a coarse blue material, covering her from her throat
to her ankles. Her head was bare and she seemed to have the very
blackest hair one could imagine and her eyes were equally so. Her face,
however, was tanned, and was a little worn and sad. But seated on her
head and shoulders and hovering everywhere about her, were a flock of
pigeons, fluttering and talking apparently to themselves and to her.
Close behind the garden was the pigeon house, set high up and painted
gray, with bright blue lines about the small windows. From the inside
came the cooing and mourning, the sounds of the most delicate and
romantic of love murmurings, as well as the noises necessary to the
smoothing of small, new famines. But the sounds were unmistakable;
there are no others like those of a dove cote.
A little farther to one slide stood a small house, which could hardly
contain more than two rooms.
Coming out of the front door, attracted by the footsteps of so many
visitors, was Madame Bonnèt. She was not young or graceful like her
daughter, Berthe, yet the greater number of the girls found their eyes
turning admiringly toward the older woman. Without immediately
knowing why, they recognized her attraction. But this was because
Madame Bonnèt typified so much that is finest and strongest in the
French national life.
She was large, with a deep bosom and broad shoulders, but with narrow
hips. She had dark hair, black almost as Berthe’s and as free from gray;
her skin was as smooth and clear one might say as satin, but there was a
softness and a fragrance to Madame’s skin that no satin ever had.
She wore a mourning dress, but with a wide white apron over it and a
white collar about her full throat.
Smiling a welcome to her unknown guests, Madame Bonnèt opened her
arms to Eugenia Castaigne and Eugenia kissed her as no one had ever
seen her do to anyone else.
Their display of affection was perfectly simple and natural and of course
over in a moment. However, Mildred and Barbara and Nona, Eugenia’s
old friends, who had been with her at the time of her marriage,
understood that there was some close bond between the two women, the
one who had lost her husband, the other whose position was perhaps
worse, since she did not know what fate had come to hers.
“I nursed Madame Bonnèt’s son. Her husband, who was an officer, and
one son have been killed since the war began; the other is at Verdun,”
Eugenia whispered quietly to Nona, while Madame Bonnèt was shaking
hands with Mildred Thornton and while Barbara and Mollie and Agatha
were waiting to speak to her. Eugenia spoke as if she were making a
perfectly ordinary statement.
“She and her husband were raising carrier pigeons more as an
amusement than for any other reason when the present war broke out,”
Eugenia continued. “They immediately sent all they had to the French
government and the government has been using them for their
messengers, when all their wonderful telephone and telegraph systems
break down, as they do now and then. But I am going to ask Madame
Bonnèt to talk to you. It is fascinating to learn what part carrier pigeons
can play in war.”
Madame Bonnèt was now walking toward the dove cote with her
visitors.
A few moments before she had picked up a large platter of corn, which
the American soldier had afterwards taken from her. At present he was
walking in front of the little procession and evidently he and Madame
Bonnèt were great friends, since he was looking back over his shoulder
and telling her of his recent domestic rescue.
And Madame Bonnèt was laughing and shaking her head.
“It is all right so long as Lieutenant Martin does not find you out.”
“Oh, Martin is a martinet,” Guy Ellis returned. “Yet even Martin should
feel honored by Mrs. Thornton and Miss Drew’s attention. However, the
favor was done for me, wasn’t it, Miss Drew?”
At this moment the young man’s expression changed rather oddly from
its gay look to one that was almost sullen. Yet his hand went up to his
forehead in a military salute. He had just seen the officer, whom they had
been discussing, walking along the same path in their direction with
Lieutenant Hugh Kelley.
But no one else had observed them. For at this instant Madame Bonnèt
had come close up to her dove cote and having taken the bowl of corn
into her own hands, held it up for a moment, as if before feeding her
flock she were invoking a blessing from the sun.
The pigeons must have been accustomed to this. For they came out of
their house and ranged themselves in a long, fluttering row on the eaves.
But although they moved impatiently, they did not at once fly down.
The birds were of several colors, white and black and a soft gray, yet the
larger number were iridescent, shining like bright jewels under water.
The girls discovered that carrier pigeons are a little larger than ordinary
ones, with long wings reaching to the end of their tails.
Then, at a little signal from Madame Bonnèt, they came, enfolding her in
a moving cloud, setting on the edge of the bowl, eating the corn from her
hand. Yet the most of them were on the ground where she scattered
handfuls of grain.
The group of Red Cross girls were fascinated, but Nona Davis
particularly so.
Leaving Eugenia, she slipped over and stood next Madame.
“I wonder if you will do me a favor? Allow me to come over some
morning and take your picture here with your pigeons? I have a friend in
New York whom I should so like to have see it.”
Madame Bonnèt smiled and then shook her head.
“You can have my picture at any time you like, so far as I am concerned,
my dear. But you see, my house has been given up to the army and
several of the officers are quartered here. I am afraid Lieutenant Martin
would object to photographs of any part of the encampment. We are
having to be so careful that the enemy does not discover where the camp
is located and there is always the danger from spies.”
Nona flushed. She was glad that no one except Madame Bonnèt had
heard her request.
“Of course. I should have thought of that. One would suppose I was a
novice and knew nothing of military requirements, when I have been
nursing since the beginning of the war. But tell, me, please, are the
carrier pigeons ever used to carry messages of importance? I have heard
of their being used and yet it seems almost absurd in a war of such
amazing scientific inventions that one should employ such a messenger.”
Madame Bonnèt shrugged her shoulders in French fashion.
“Child, this is a war of both little things and great. Nothing is too simple,
nothing too wonderful to have its use. I can only hope my birds are of
some service; what messages they bear I am, of course, not told. Yet they
must be of some value, since the French government has been able to
employ all I could furnish them. It is more difficult to train the young
birds now. One takes them away from home for a short distance when
they are young, then the distance becomes greater, a hundred miles, five
hundred, sometimes six hundred. In the Franco-Prussian war, when my
beloved city of Paris was besieged, the carrier pigeons kept Paris always
in touch with the outside world. That shall not happen again. Paris will
not be besieged, and yet who can say what service my pets may not
give?”
Nona held out her hand. “How interesting, Madame Bonnèt! Do you
think one of them will come to me?”
Madame Bonnèt slipped a grain of corn in Nona’s outstretched palm as
she stood waiting. She was not in her nurse’s uniform, but wore a simple
white dress and a moment before had taken off her hat. She looked very
young and slender and picturesque in contrast with Madame Bonnèt’s
size and her mourning.
A particularly lovely gray pigeon with delicate lavender shades of color
in her full throat had for several moments been hovering about Nona,
coquetting with her.
Now, at her invitation, the pigeon rose and flew off, then returned and for
a breathless instant settled in Nona’s hand.
Madame Bonnèt reached over and lifted it up.
“My pigeons rarely do that for anyone except my daughter or me. So I
mean to name this one for you. Will you tell me your name again? I do
not think I heard, there were so many ones.”
Madame Bonnèt was speaking in French, but Nona understood her
without difficulty. Madame Bonnèt seemed to be able to understand
English, but not to use it fluently.
Nona repeated her name. Then slipping her hand into her pocket she
drew out a little purse and opened it.
“I have been carrying around a little gold luck piece someone gave me as
a child. May I tie it around my pigeon, so if we ever meet again I may
recognize her as my namesake?”
Then Nona felt embarrassed by her own sentimentality. She had thought
no one was paying attention to her except Madame Bonnèt, and here
were the two young American officers whom they had met upon their
railway journey through France, waiting to speak to their hostess.
Evidently they had been quartered in Madame Bonnèt’s home.
Candidly, Nona did not like Lieutenant Martin and had never liked him
in their slight acquaintance as boy and girl.
Yet these repeated meetings with persons whom one does not expect to
see again are always taking place.
Madame Bonnèt shook hands with the two young officers. One could see
how much they both admired the fine French woman.
“I am told Lieutenant Martin is a wireless expert, so he is probably
scornful of my carrier pigeons,” Madame Bonnèt said good naturedly.
“You see, he represents the newest, while my pigeons represent the
oldest method of communication in war. Pigeons were used by the
Saracens in the first crusade. Nevertheless, Lieutenant Martin, when you
leave for the front, I intend to make you a present of one of my old-
fashioned messengers. It would be strange if you should find my gift
useful.”
To Nona’s surprise Lieutenant Martin said quickly:
“Then may I have the pigeon I just overheard you naming for Miss
Davis?”
And Madame Bonnèt laughed and agreed.
 CHAPTER VII
The Days Before the Great Day
SO the first summer with the American Expeditionary force in France
passed swiftly on.
For long hours during the day, and sometimes into the night, the
American soldiers were occupied in learning their final lessons in the
great war game which had been fought out in Europe for the past three
years.
Never did men work with greater energy or enthusiasm, or with more
impatience, knowing how greatly the Allies needed their aid and longing
to meet the test. The work was grilling and the strain of waiting severest
of all. Yet the greater number of the American boys met the situation
gallantly. Already the first divisions, who had arrived in the early part of
the summer in France, had broken all previous records in military
training.
It remains an historical fact that civilization has always moved westward
to test democracy, until the United States remained the last county in
which the right of human beings to govern themselves could be proved,
since there were no countries farther west. Moreover, it appeared again
as if in the great war that the United States had come to be the last
stronghold. For Europe alone had not been equal to the fight against
autocracy. Unless the United States could turn the balance in favor of the
Entente Allies, the cause of democracy might be set back many hundreds
of years.
This idea was in the mind of almost every American soldier in France,
although perhaps not expressed in these words. Yet each man and boy
understood that the United States not only expected him to do his duty in
the war, but to fulfil his own and his country’s ideal.
Yet naturally the life in the American camp in France was by no means
all plain sailing. Besides the obstacles one might have reasonably
expected, there was one thought which haunted the men and officers
alike.
Could it be possible that here in their midst and in spite of every effort
there might yet be a traitor?
In all the past we know there has been nothing of the same kind to equal
the German spy system. It would seem that after three years of war, after
the eternal vigilance of the nations, the last Teuton spy would have been
unearthed. Yet they have reminded one of the ancient story of the giant
who whenever he was thrown to earth, rose up again the stronger.
Nevertheless, here in the American camp in France a spy could not well
be imagined. There were only the soldiers, the French people devoted to
their interests, the Red Cross nurses at their hospital. Now and then an
occasional outsider came on some business connected with the army and
went away again, but always his business and his history were well
known.
However, there was always the chance. The enemy would like to hear
how many American soldiers had arrived at the permanent camp, how
many more were to come later and at what moment they would enter the
great drive with their Allies. It was true that both the French and British
plans were being constantly transmitted to Germany before they could be
carried out.
Therefore the American soldiers were watchful, sometimes almost
suspicious, of one another.
But, beside this serious side of American camp life in France, there was
also a cheerful side.
The American soldiers were living among the race of people nearest akin
in nature to them. For no amount of adversity can make the French or the
Americans anything but valiant and pleasure loving.
Besides their work the American soldiers in France wished also to be
amused. If the entertainment of the soldiers in the camps all over the
United States was important, this was equally true in France.
Therefore it chanced that the American Red Cross girls, who were
stationed at the hospital nearest their own men, were called upon among
their first duties to help with other things than nursing.
Of course, if there had been many soldiers ill this would have been
impossible. But during the early weeks after the arrival of the American
Regulars, there were but few patients in Madame Castaigne’s splendidly
equipped hospital.
So the nurses were, of course, glad to do whatever was useful. But rather
to her old friends’ surprise, Barbara Thornton seemed to develop such an
intense interest in the amusement of the soldiers that it was difficult to
know whether she was making the effort more to entertain herself than
them.
However, no one at the present time really understood Barbara
Thornton’s character. Marriage had changed her as it does most people.
And it was not until a number of things had taken place that Barbara
began even faintly to understand herself.
Upon her arrival at the hospital, instead of continuing her former
intimacy with Eugenia, with Mildred and with Nona, the other three of
the four original Red Cross girls, Barbara developed an unexpected
intimacy with Mollie Drew and with Agatha Burton. Yet one could
hardly say, truthfully, that Mollie and Barbara were intimate with
Agatha. If one watched closely enough it was merely that they appeared
to find her useful to them. Neither girl would have agreed to this.
However, they had not at first liked her, and something in her quiet,
unobtrusive personality must have had its influence.
In spite of the fact that Eugenia, Mildred and Nona were all aware of
Barbara’s attitude, at the beginning they did not discuss the matter.
Eugenia, who would have been apt to influence the younger girl, had she
spoken to her, was only vaguely conscious of what was taking place. For
naturally, Eugenia was absorbed in her duties as the superintendent of the
new American hospital and wished to be absorbed in them until she had
neither time nor strength for anything else. For if Eugenia were intensely
occupied she was not so apt to be haunted by the thought of the possible
fate of her husband. What could have become of him? There were many
times when Eugenia believed that if she could only hear he were dead,
she would be satisfied, even comparatively happy. There were so many
other women learning to bear this burden. But the uncertainty was
torture.
Nevertheless, Eugenia would not betray herself by revealing her
unhappiness, believing that one of the first duties of war nursing is to put
one’s personal sorrows out of one’s mind. Yet now and then a letter
arriving from a friend, or from some person in authority who was
endeavoring to discover what fate had befallen Captain Castaigne,
Eugenia would sometimes be led to hope and then, at other times, to feel
an even deeper despair.
So it was small wonder that, so long as Barbara and the other nurses did
whatever was needed of them in the hospital and kept well, Eugenia was
glad to know they were being helpful and also entertaining the soldiers
until the time of their greater service. Certainly she would never have
dreamed of feeling concerned over what any one of the original Red
Cross girls might do. Eugenia believed she loved and understood them
too completely.
There were other and different reasons why Mildred Thornton would not
criticise her sister-in-law. In the first place, Mildred was reserved and not
critical and was also occupied with her own experiences. Moreover, the
very fact of being a sister-in-law made her too loyal both to Barbara and
to Dick to think of resenting Barbara’s present behavior.
Therefore it was left to Nona Davis, as the only one of the four old
friends to puzzle over and not altogether to approve of one of their
original group. But this may have been partly due to the fact that Nona
felt a little on the outside and was frequently lonely for Sonya during the
first few weeks of this second coming to France to continue her Red
Cross nursing.
Yet, whatever defense one might make, or whatever excuse be given,
there was little doubt that Barbara was behaving strangely. Nor was it
heir friendship with Mollie Drew nor with Agatha Burton which excited
Nona’s unexpressed criticism. Nona herself had worked with Mollie and
Agatha in Italy and had liked them fairly well. It was she who had
introduced them to Barbara. But it looked at present as if Barbara
Thornton were only using the friendship of the two comparatively
unknown girls to further her own plans.
For, the slight acquaintance with young Lieutenant Hugh Kelley, which
Barbara had started in idle fashion on board the train bringing them both
through France, had apparently developed into a real interest. This was
rather extraordinary in view of the fact that Barbara was married to
Richard Thornton and was supposedly utterly devoted to him. Moreover,
she had a baby and yet was behaving as if she were a girl again.
Sometimes Nona wondered if Barbara had ever explained to Lieutenant
Kelley that she was Mrs. Thornton, not Miss Thornton. He had received
this impression upon their first meeting and Barbara did appear so
absurdly childish. However, it was just as well Nona had never felt at
liberty to inquire, for as a matter of fact Barbara had deliberately
continued the false impression, persuading Mollie and Agatha to assist
her. At first the misunderstanding had struck her as amusing, later she
had concluded that it would do no possible harm to go on with it, as a
new friendship would keep her from being so lonely and unhappy over
her separation from Dick.
As for Lieutenant Kelley, she really did not consider him, only she knew,
of course, he was the type of man who always enjoyed a mild flirtation.
And Mollie and Agatha made particularly agreeable friends at present,
because they were comparative strangers and therefore would not
criticise her, and also because they were interested in two of the
American soldiers.
Mollie and Guy Ellis who had met in such an absurd fashion, had
developed a surprising interest in each other for so short an acquaintance.
But then these were war times and they were both in a foreign land.
It also turned out that Agatha Burton had a friend among the American
soldiers encamped in the village close to Eugenia’s hospital. This may
have influenced her coming abroad to nurse, since the friendship, Agatha
declared, was an old one. The soldier, whose name was Charles
Anderson, was not prepossessing in appearance. He was small and
squarely built and had rather a sullen manner. But then Agatha was not
the type of girl who would attract many people. She was too quiet and
unobtrusive.
However, the three girls discovered another bond. The three young men
in whom they were interested were musical.
If Lieutenant Kelley had to preserve discipline as an officer at other
times, the three men could meet on a more common ground with their
music. Then Mollie Drew had an attractive voice and a gift for singing
old Irish ballads which the solders especially loved.
And in the long twilights of those first summer evenings in France,
music played a more important part in some of the boys’ lives than they
ever believed possible.
Barbara could not sing, was not musical in the least, but she did develop
an unexpected executive ability, for it was she who arranged the weekly
concerts at the little French Casino near the edge of the village.
She also made friends with Berthe Bonnèt, who had been studying at the
Conservatoire in Paris before the beginning of the war. Now all of
Madame Bonnèt’s, all of Berthe’s time and strength was given to the
service of the American soldiers. If Berthe could do for them one thing
more, she was happy while Bonnèt had become La Mère to half the
American soldiers in her one-time quiet old French village.
Therefore Barbara found many reasons, whenever she was free from her
hospital work, for spending many hours in Madame’s old garden.
If Nona thought of this as a convenient place for Barbara to see
Lieutenant Kelley, who was quartered with Madame, she could not, of
course, mention it. Moreover, Barbara seldom left the hospital unless
either Agatha or Mollie were with her.
Moreover, Nona’s own spare time from her Red Cross nursing was being
given to acting as interpreter. She had a small class of American and
French soldiers whom she was teaching to understand each other and
found the task extremely amusing.
 CHAPTER VIII
Loneliness
ONE afternoon Nona went to Barbara’s bedroom, adjoining her own, and
knocked.
She had recently decided that she did not intend to allow Barbara to
separate herself from her old friendships, if it were possible to prevent it.
For, if Barbara were doing something of which she could not altogether
approve, then all the more reason why she should hold to her affection in
order to influence her should trouble come.
So, as Mildred Thornton was at present in charge of the hospital,
Eugenia having gone away on one of the fruitless trips she made now
and then in order to seek news of her husband, Nona asked that she and
Barbara be given their two hours for recreation at the same time. Then
she had managed an engagement with Barbara for a late afternoon walk.
Of course Nona appreciated how difficult it often is to revive an old
affection which time and circumstances have altered. Certainly Barbara
must have changed since her marriage, grown more spoiled and self-
centered. One could scarcely imagine the old Barbara behaving as this
new one was doing. Nevertheless, Nona did not intend the separation
between the four original Red Cross girls to continue indefinitely.
Since the evening of her own and Barbara’s arrival at the hospital and
their reunion with Eugenia and Mildred, there had been nothing like the
intimacy they had known in the Countess Castaigne’s tiny house with the
blue front door in southern France. Yet here there should be a deeper
emotion between them, now that the Stars and Stripes were to float with
the Tricolor over the scarred fields of France.
Barbara did not answer and Nona, turning the handle of the door, walked
in.
To her surprise she found that Barbara was not waiting, but that Agatha
Burton was in the room glancing over something which she had written
upon a pad. It was rather an amusement to her companions that Agatha,
who did not appear particularly clever, had confessed that she intended
writing a book upon the war at its close and was keeping notes with this
idea in mind.
She flushed now, apparently with annoyance at Nona’s intrusion.
“I am awfully sorry. I thought Mrs. Thornton was waiting for me. I did
not realize anyone else was here,” Nona apologized.
Agatha’s manner immediately changed. She had a fashion, which few of
the girls working with her liked, of now and then behaving in a kind of
apologetic way, as if she were accused of something and trying to defend
herself, when no one had considered her.
“Oh, it does not matter; I was expecting you. Mrs. Thornton asked me to
wait here for a few moments to give you this note. She cannot keep her
engagement.” Then Agatha slipped hurriedly out of the room.
Barbara had written only a few lines to explain that she had unexpectedly
made an appointment to see one of the superior officers at the American
camp. She was to find out if he approved of an entertainment on a good
deal larger scale than they had yet undertaken for the amusement of the
soldiers.
Nona bit her lips for an instant with disappointment and annoyance.
Then she laughed. Barbara was a good deal of a diplomatist, and
doubtless the entertainment would take place. Yet it was rather a surprise
to find Barbara devoting the greater part of her energies to something so
unlike serious Red Cross nursing. Well, that would come later! However,
Nona remembered Barbara never had cared for the nursing to the extent
she and Eugenia and Mildred had. This was one of the many reasons
why she had disapproved of Barbara’s returning to France to undertake
Red Cross work a second time. However, they were all in France to do
whatever was required, and if Barbara’s talent and inclination took this
particular outlet, she had no right to criticise, so long as Eugenia did not.
However, Nona had no idea of giving up her walk. She had been in the
hospital all day and was tired.
She took the road from the hospital toward the village, where the largest
number of the American soldiers were encamped. Yet she did not intend
going into the village but merely to keep on the outskirts.
It was late afternoon and the work in camp was, in all probability, over,
so that the men would be resting. Yet she wished to be sufficiently near
to see the little once sleepy old French town, with its former prosperous
neighboring fields, and to dream of the great change which had taken
place. For at present it seemed the most strenuous village in the world.
However, Nona had not gone far from the hospital when she heard
footsteps following her own. Then a cold nose was thrust into her hand.
She allowed her hand to remain affectionately on Duke’s great head. He
was always lonely and wretched when Eugenia was away, and seemed to
know when she left the hospital by the same intuition which had
informed him of Captain Castaigne’s disappearance. For the larger part
of the time Duke could not be near his mistress in the hospital yet was
content if he felt her not far away.
Nona wondered for a moment if Duke would get into any mischief by
going with her. But then he was usually discretion itself and already
hundreds of the American soldiers knew and loved him.
Besides, Nona was a little lonely herself and Duke’s society would be a
consolation. Only this morning she had receive a letter from Sonya
Valesky, telling her that she and Bianca were away at a quiet seaside
resort in New Jersey in order to escape the heat. Sonya also mentioned
that Carlo Navara had been spending a few days with them.
The friend who had been paying for Carlo’s musical education before his
departure to join the army in Italy and his subsequent injury had arranged
for Carlo to see the most eminent throat specialist in New York. The
specialist had advised an operation. He gave Carlo no certain hope that
the operation would give him back his beautiful voice, but there was one
chance in a hundred. The operation was a dangerous one, would he go
through with it? So Carlo had come to ask Sonya’s advice. She had done
so much for him in the past and they were such friends, he would not do
what she did not think wise. Sonya added at the last that she had told
Carlo to take the one chance, yet Nona could guess from her letter that
she was worried over her decision.
And the letter had made Nona a little homesick. Since she had no family
of her own, although Sonya was only her friend, she had come to feel
closer to her than to anyone else. Besides, she was not reconciled to
Sonya’s not coming with her to France, but preferring to remain in the
United States to chaperon Bianca for the present at least.
But when Sonya had last been in France she had just returned from a
Russian prison after having been sentenced to Siberia and then reprieved.
So it was small wonder that her memory of those days was not pleasant.
Sonya now seemed to love the United States and, in spite of the turmoil
in Russia in her effort for freedom, to be content to remain away from
her own country.
But while she was thinking, Nona had turned from the road into a side
path which skirted the edge of the village. She was not afraid at being
alone. For one thing, Duke was with her; for another, the soldiers had so
far been universally courteous. One of General Pershing’s first requests
to the American soldiers arriving in France was that they show entire
respect to French women. They would surely not show less to American
girls.
Running through the village which had been given over by France for the
training grounds of the American soldiers, was a little river, which in this
country would be thought of only as a stream. Here it curved and wound
round to the left. Nona could see the lights and shadows on the water
through the trees which separated her from it.
She believed the woods empty, then she thought for an instant that she
saw the flutter of a woman’s dress going swiftly past in the opposite
direction. There was something oddly familiar about the figure, and yet,
disappearing so swiftly, Nona not only did not recognize who it was, but
was scarcely convinced she had seen anyone.
At some little distance farther on, however, she did discover an
American soldier half sitting and half lying down under one of the trees.
He was smoking, yet Nona recognized what his attitude of
discouragement revealed. She had been doing war work too long not to
know! Moreover, in these past few weeks she had been a witness to
deeper if more self-contained homesickness than she had ever seen. But
then no other soldiers have been forced to fight so far from their own
people.
Nona wondered for an instant if there were anything she could do to
help, just to talk to another human being is often a consolation.
But while she was hesitating the young man glanced in her direction.
Then, jumping up, Lieutenant Kelley came toward her and Nona
wondered for the shadow of a second how long he had been alone.
“Sorry to have you catch me loafing, Miss Davis! I confess I am in a bad
humor and trying to fight it off. An officer hasn’t any right to be
homesick or have the blues; one must leave that privilege to a private, as
he is still a human being. My, but it is good to see you standing there in