The Red Cross Girls with Pershing to Victory

One thing they were obliged to hear, the Grand Duchess Marie Adelaide had not pleased all her subjects by her surrender to German ideas and designs during the recent years when the German army had used her kingdom as a passageway to France.

In spite of her verbal protest against the breaking of the treaty which declared her country neutral, once the Germans had entered her duchy the Grand Duchess had appeared to sympathize with the invaders.

Now, whether it was the world talk of democracy, the victory of the allies, or the old love of the little duchy of Luxemburg for France, the people of the small kingdom were assuredly considering a change of government.

Yet this problem did not trouble or affect the affairs of the Red Cross hospital. Nor did the little Countess Charlotta appear deeply interested, insisting that her family would make the same effort to compel her marriage without regard to political reforms.

Certainly the young Luxemburg countess, whatever her upbringing, was not a reserved character. Instead she seemed to love nothing so well as to discuss her own past, present and future with the group of American girls and to have them tell her as much as they would of their own histories.

One way or another apparently the Countess Charlotta was in the habit of managing to do what she liked.

The thing she wished at present was to remain as long as possible at the American Red Cross hospital.

It was true at first the two Red Cross physicians who had been her rescuers advised against her removal from the hospital. Influenced by them, or perhaps sharing their view, her own physician had given the same opinion. But now a number of days having passed without fresh complications, undoubtedly the Countess Charlotta might have returned home had she so desired.

Yet since she did not so desire and declined to stir from her bed, naturally Sonya felt obliged to insist upon her remaining until she had completely recovered.

The old house in which the Red Cross was now established Sonya had since learned was the property of the girl who was in a sense an accidental patient.

The Countess Charlotta was not a troublesome invalid, Sonya's chief difficulty being that the Red Cross girls so enjoyed the newcomer's society it was difficult to keep them out of her room during any of their spare moments.

Certainly she was brave and made as little as possible of her physical suffering, and then her insatiate curiosity about American girls was a charm in itself.

As a matter of fact it was Charlotta who soon knew more of the history of the present group of Red Cross girls than any one of their number had ever formerly known.

Both Mildred Thornton and Nona Davis told her of their own engagements, perhaps unwisely sympathizing with the difference in their own futures and hers.

Bianca Zoli spared nothing of her past save the betrayal of her country's secrets by her Italian mother, a fact to which she never alluded.

Sonya even discovered herself relating anecdotes of her own somewhat long and checkered career for the benefit of the newcomer who was at once the guest of the hospital and its hostess. She even spoke of her recent marriage to Dr. David Clark and the fact that his Red Cross unit would establish a hospital in one of the old castles on the Rhine as soon as the American Army of Occupation were in possession of Coblenz.

Ruth Carroll reported that she had not so interesting a story to tell as she knew the little countess would have liked to hear. Her life had been fairly prosaic; her father was a country doctor in a little Kentucky town and she had never left home until the interest in the war led her to study nursing and later to join the Red Cross service in France.

Regardless of Charlotta's openly expressed unbelief, Ruth insisted that never in her life, not even as a little girl, had she possessed a real admirer.

In compensation Ruth could only declare that if Theodosia Thompson cared to tell of her past it would form a contrast to her own humdrum tale.

It chanced that Bianca Zoli was also in the little countess's room when one evening after supper Theodosia dropped in to rest and talk before going upstairs to bed.

Her duties were over for the day and it seemed to both the other girls that she appeared tired and cross. Yet the work at the hospital at present was not severe. Most of the American soldiers, who had suffered attacks of influenza on their eastward march, were now nearly well, while a few of them had already left the hospital at Luxemburg for one of the convalescent hospitals in southern France.

In their brief acquaintance Bianca and Charlotta had become intimate friends, for one reason because Bianca had more time to devote to her than the regular Red Cross nurses. But there was another strange bond in the difference in their temperaments, since concealment of her emotions was the habit of Bianca's life, while Charlotta apparently never concealed anything.

Yet Bianca was talking of Carlo Navara and their friendship when Theodosia interrupted her unconscious revelation of her affection for the young American soldier and singer.

"Perhaps you would rather I did not come in," Theodosia protested, standing a moment on the threshold and frowning.

Then, when both girls had insisted on her entrance, she came and sat down in a large chair with her small feet thrust under her.

Bianca was sitting on the edge of Charlotta's bed, both of them having been examining a box of jewelry which the young countess had demanded sent from her home earlier in the day.

The big room was very comfortable with a few pieces of old furniture which had not been removed from this chamber to give place to the regular hospital accommodations.

A shaded electric light was on a table near the bed throwing its warm lights on Bianca Zoli's fair hair and on the Countess Charlotta's black curls which she had tied with a band of bright blue velvet.

"You children look very young and very fortunate," Theodosia began, her tone a little envious.

"It must be agreeable, Countess Charlotta, not to be a Miss Nobody of Nowhere, even if you have difficulties of your own to contend with."

Theodosia made a queer little face, wrinkling her small nose, the dark light appearing in the centres of her large, pale blue eyes.

"I don't think I could make up my mind even in my present condition to marry a German nobleman, but a nobleman of another variety I think I would accept regardless of his age and the democratic ideas which are supposed to possess my country. As a matter of fact, I don't suppose any girls in the world ever wanted to marry into the nobility more than American girls before the war. I rather wonder if we have altogether changed. But at any rate I have nothing to offer to anybody, neither beauty, nor brains, nor money, nor family."

Then observing that both her companions appeared shocked by her pessimism Theodosia laughed, her expression changing with extraordinary swiftness.

"I wonder if you girls would like to hear a little of my history. I hope you won't be bored. After all it is only fair that we should know something of each other before we can form fair judgments. I wish I had the courage to confide in Mrs. Clark, but I don't think she likes me.

"I might as well tell the worst or the best of myself first. My mother was a dancer. I don't know much about her except that she was ill and came to a little Kentucky town to try to recover. My father was a boy, younger than she, and fell desperately in love. He married her without a cent and against the will of his older brother, a small farmer. Well, my mother died and my father died soon after when I was a few years old. Afterwards I was brought up by a very unpleasant old uncle of the story book variety, who disliked me and everything about me.

"I never had any friends except Ruth Carroll, who is an angel and has always been good to me. People in little towns are still suspicious of an ancestry like mine. I want to be a dancer myself, but I have never had the opportunity. So I studied nursing because Ruth was studying and because I wanted to help in the war and most of all, to get away from Cloverport, Kentucky.

"There is my history in a nutshell, but what is really interesting in life isn't the chapters one has already read, it is the chapters to come. I hope we may soon go on to Coblenz. I am sure we will have an interesting time there. Only of course I am sorry, Countess Charlotta, that you will not be with us."

Older than her companions, Theodosia's dramatic Irish instinct was somewhat overwhelming. Even the little Luxemburg countess felt her own story of less interest and importance by comparison.

Fortunately Theodosia had also an Irish sense of humor and observing the awestruck expressions of her companions, suddenly she laughed a gay little laugh which was one of the attractions of her odd and not always pleasing personality.

"Oh, you must not take what I have just told you too seriously. Ruth Carroll, who understands me better than any one else, says I get more pleasure than sorrow out of my queer history. As for the dancing I only wish to do folk dancing and Mrs. Clark tells me the soldiers are beginning to be interested in folk dancing as one of the methods of amusing themselves. I told her how much I was interested and she told me there might be a chance to help entertain the soldiers as well as nurse them, after the army of occupation settles down for a long watch upon the Rhine. Goodnight," and even more quickly than she had appeared, Thea, as her friends called her, slipped out of the big chair and disappeared.

A few minutes later Bianca went her way to bed. She was wearing a small pin which the Countess Charlotta had given her, not only as a mark of her friendship, but for a secret reason which only the two girls were to know.

So it chanced that the group of Red Cross girls and the little Luxemburg countess became fairly well acquainted with each other's past histories because of the natural fondness of girls for confiding in one another. Only Nora Jamison never talked of herself, and though appearing perfectly friendly, seemed to devote all her spare time to the companionship of the little French girl, Louisa.

CHAPTER IX

"Life's Little Ironies"

ONE afternoon the Countess Charlotta was alone in her room walking up and down in a restless fashion for a girl who had been so recently injured. Her forehead was still bandaged and her arm in a plaster cast, but otherwise she was apparently well. Nevertheless, she showed the results of the strain of her accident and perhaps of her personal problem.

She looked older than one would have supposed from her half-joking and half-serious conversations with Bianca Zoli and the other Red Cross girls.

In spite of her natural gayety and the warmth and color of her nature, which she had inherited from her French ancestry, the girl faced a difficult future.

All her life it seemed to her she had been in opposition to her surroundings, throwing herself powerlessly against ideas and conditions she could not alter. Everything that belonged to the old German order of existence she had always hated. From the time of her babyhood her father had appeared to her as a narrow tyrant insisting that she should spend her days in a routine which pleased him, without consulting either her wishes or her talents. As a matter of fact, the small countess had a will of her own and resented dictation.

Never would the little Charlotta even in her earliest youth do what might naturally have been expected of her! From the first her wilfulness, her entire lack of interest in ladylike pursuits had been a source of trouble and anxiety to her governesses.

One characteristic of the small Charlotta was that she never seemed able to remain still long enough to learn the things which were required of her. Her one desire was to be outdoors riding on horseback over the fields, or playing with the children in the village, or in the small cottages on her father's estate.