"You stay here," he observed. "Personally I think you've had a bad dream, because William can't possably know the combination of that safe.

It's as much as I can do to remember it myself."

"It's a Spy's business to know everything, father."

He gave me a peircing glance.

"He's a Spy, is he?" he then said. "Well, I might have known that all this war preparation of yours would lead to Spies. It has turned more substantile intellects than yours."

He then swiched on the hall lights from the top of the stairs and desended. I could but wait at the top, fearing at each moment a shot would ring out, as a Spy's business is such as not to stop at Murder.

My father unlocked the safe and looked in it. Then he closed it again and disapeared into the back of the house. How agonising were the moments that ensued! He did not return, and at last, feeling that he had met a terrable Death, I went down.

I went through the fatal dining room to the pantrey and there found him not only alive, but putting on a plate some cold roast beef and two apples.

"I thought we'd have a bite to eat," he said. "I need a little nourishment before getting back into that puddle to sleep."

"Father!" I said. "How can you talk of food when knowing----"

"Get some salt and pepper," he said, "and see if there is any mustard mixed. You've had a dream, Bab. That's all. The Case is in the safe, and William is in his bed, and in about two minutes a cold repast is going to be in me."

Ye G.o.ds!

He is now asleep, and I am writing this at 2 A. M.

I, and I alone, know that there is a Criminal in this house, serving our meals and quareling with the cook as if a regular Butler, but really a Spy. And although I cry aloud in my anguish, those who hear me but maintain that I am having a nightmare.

I am a Voice crying in the Wilderness.

APRIL 15TH: 9 A. M. William is going about as usual, but looks as though he had not had enough sleep.

Father has told mother about last night, and I am not to have coffee in the evenings. This is not surprizing, as they have always considered me from a physical and not a mental standpoint.

My very Soul is in revolt.

6 P. M. This being Sunday, camp did not convene until 3 P. M. and then but for a short time. We flag-signaled mostly and are now to the letter E. Also got the gun loaded at last and fired it several times, I giving the orders as in the book, page 262, in a loud voice:

(1) "Hold the rifle on the mark." (2) "Aim properly." (3) "Squeeze the Triger properly." (4) "Call the shot."

We had but just started, and Mademoiselle had taken the car and gone back to the Adams's residence to bring out Mr. Adams, as she considers gun-shooting as dangerous, when a farmer with to dogs came over a fense and objected, saying that it was Sunday and that his cows were getting excited anyhow and would probahly not give any milk.

"These are War times," I said, in a dignafied manner. "And if you are doing nothing for the country yourself you should at least allow others to do so."

He was a not unreasonable tipe and this seemed to effect him. For he sat down on one of our stools and said:

"Well, I don't know about that, miss. You see----"

"Captain," I put in. Because he might as well know that we meant business.

"Captain, of course!" he said. "You'll have to excuze me. This thing of Women in War is new to me. But now don't you think that you'll be doing the country a service not to interfere with the food supply and so on?"

He then looked at me and remarked: "If I was you, miss or Captain, I would not come any to clost to my place. My wife was pretty well bruized up that time you upset our milk waggon."

IT WAS INDEED HE! But he was not unpleasant about it, although remarking that if he had a daughter and a machine, although he had niether, and expected niether, the one would never be allowed to have the other until carefully taught on an emty road.

He then said:

"You girls have been wig-wagging, I see."

"We are studying flag signals."

"Humph!" he observed. "I used to know something about that myself, in the Spanish war. Now let's see what I remember. Watch this. And somebody keep an eye on that hill and report if a blue calico dress is charging from the enemies' Trenches."

It was very strange to see one who apeared to be but an ordinary Farmer, Or Milkman, pick up our flags and wave them faster than we could read them. It was indeed thrilling, although discouraging, because if that was the regular rate of Speed we felt that we could never acheive it. I remarked this, and he then said:

"Work hard at it, and I reckon I can slip over now and then and give you a lesson. Any girl that can drive an automobile h.e.l.l-bent" (these are his words, not mine) "can do most anything she sets her mind on. You leave that gun alone, and work at the signaling, and I guess I can make out to come every afternoon. I start out about 2 A. M. and by noon I'm mostly back."

We all thanked him, and saluted as he left. He saluted to, and said:

"Name's Schmidt, but don't worry about that. Got some German blood way back, but who hasn't?"

He then departed with his to dogs, and we held a meeting, and voted to give up everything but signaling.

Pa.s.sed unanamously.

8 P. M. I am now at home. Dinner is over, being early on Sundays because of Servants' days out and so on.

Leila had a Doctor to dinner. She met him at the Red Cross, and he would, I think, be a good husband. He sat beside me, and I talked mostly about her, as I wished him to know that, although having her faults as all have, she would be a good wife.

"She can sow very well," I told him, "and she would probably like to keep House, but of course has no chance here, as mother thinks no one can manage but herself."

"Indeed!" he said, looking at me. "But of course she will probably have a house of her own before long."

"Very likely," I said. "Although she has had a number of chances and always refuses."

"Probably the right Person has not happened along;" he observed.

"Perhaps," I said, in a signifacant tone. "Or perhaps he does not know he is the right Person."

William, of whom more anon, was pa.s.sing the ice cream just then. I refused it, saying:

"Not in war time."

"Barbara," mother said, stiffly. "Don't be a silly. Eat your desert."

As I do not like seens I then took a little, but no cake.