Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine

“Yes, if you please, sir. I am most grateful for this pleasant evening and the excellent dinner. The bacon tastes like that which we have at home.”

“Straight from the States,” the general informed her. “This, unfortunately, is the last of it, and we shall live on army chow hereafter, unless the Germans see fit to give us something more worth while. The pleasure this evening has been wholly ours, Mrs. Gray and Miss Briggs, and we thank you for coming. I am in hopes of meeting your husband one of these days. I wish to tell him what I think of his wife,” added the general.

“I am grateful to you for the information,” said the captain in a low tone, for the Chinese servant had just come in, though the general sent him out immediately to order the car for the visitors.

Good nights were said, and a few moments later the Overton girls were on their way to their billets.

“You surely gave those army gentlemen a genuine shock, Loyalheart,” declared Miss Briggs. “It was all news to me. How you can keep things in the back of your head, and never say a word to your next best friend, is more than I can understand. When did you see all you told them about?”

“While you were in dreamland, my dear. If you will rise early enough to-morrow, you may see something too.”

“No, thank you. My desire to sleep is greater than my curiosity. You may do all the sleuthing you choose, J. Elfreda prefers her beauty sleep. I wonder what Mrs. Smythe would say were she to know that we had been dining with a general. I’ll venture to say that she does hear about it; then look out for squalls. Here we are.”

The car came to a stop before their billets, and as it did Grace observed that some one was standing leaning against the wall of the house. She could not make out much more than that in the darkness. Perhaps it was some one seeking protection from the chill wind that was sweeping up the street, and under which both girls were shivering a little.

Grace stepped up on the walk, went up to the man standing there, and peered into his face.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Me Won.”

“Indeed! What are you doing here so late, Won?”

“Me watchee.”

“Watching what?” Grace was puzzled.

“Watchee Missie Glay’s slatchel,” the Chinaman informed her, pointing to something standing against the side of the building.

“Elfreda, will you look here?” called Grace. “Our belongings are out here on the street.”

“You don’t say! What can have happened?”

“I should say from the appearance of things that we had been evicted. Who threw these things out, Won?”

“Number one boss woman.”

“Who?”

“Blig boss woman. Tlow everything all over, a-la.”

“Do you mean Mrs. Smythe?” demanded “Captain” Grace.

“Les.”

“I – I begin to understand,” gasped Miss Briggs. “She threw our belongings into the street, eh?”

“Les.”

“Oh, for a place where I could practice law for one little half hour,” raged J. Elfreda.

“Why did she do that, Won?” questioned Grace Harlowe, though suspecting the truth.

“Not know.”

“Is she in there?” pointing to the cottage.

“Les.”

“Thank you, Won. It was very kind of you to watch our belongings. Don’t go away yet, I may need you.”

Grace tried the door and found it barred. She called, but there was no answer.

“This is provoking!” she exclaimed, now thoroughly exasperated.

“What are you going to do?” asked Elfreda.

“Wake up the house,” she replied shortly, stepping out into the street and feeling about on the ground. “I think this will do it,” she observed, returning to the sidewalk with a rock in one hand. It was a sizable rock, a big cobblestone, with which the street was paved, except for the holes that had been dug by German shells.

“Hulloa the house!” shouted Grace.

There was no response from within. Grace drew back the rock and banged it against the door, but still no response. Now began such a banging as awakened sleepers in the cellars all along the street, a banging that attracted the attention of M. P.’s (military police) and that split a board in the door itself.

“Hulloa the house!” repeated the Overton girl.

“What do you want?” demanded a calm voice from within, in a tone that convinced Grace Harlowe that its owner had not been asleep at all.

“I wish to get into my billet, if you please.”

“Then go to your billet,” suggested Mrs. Smythe.

“These are our billets, Mrs. Smythe. If you wish to stay in them, you are welcome so far as we are concerned, but you will please open the door so we may come in.”

“You are mistaken. These are not your billets; they are the headquarters of the welfare supervisor. You will be good enough to go away before it becomes necessary for me to call the police.”

“Be so kind as to open the door!” demanded Grace evenly.

“You threw our things into the street,” shouted Elfreda.

Grace begged her to be quiet.

“Will you go away?” demanded the supervisor, raising her voice.

“Where shall we go? We have no place to sleep. You have thrown our kits out, and we are very cold. I ask you once more to let us in.”

“That does not concern me, driver. I am not interested in your domestic affairs. Go away or I shall scream for the M. P.’s.”

“Save your breath, they are coming now,” answered “Captain” Grace as she heard men running toward them from two directions, and a moment later half a dozen military police with drawn clubs came rushing on the scene.