_Chapter_ XIII Lull Before the Storm
Until one P. M. the next day Cherry was lost to the world. At last shestirred beneath her rare old English blankets, opened her eyes, staredabout her, tried to remember, then began trying to forget.
In slippers and bathrobe she crept down to the kitchen where the cookserved her with very strong tea and a small, delicious meat pie. Afterthat she curled up in the big chair before the fire and once again fellasleep.
It was only on the morning of the second day that she found courage toface life as it was. The home in London in which she had been givenroyal welcome was gone. She could barely whisper. Would her voice comeback? What of her people there in the subway? The little Irish girl, theScotch fiddler, and all the rest, were they carrying on?
“Yes,” she assured herself as a fresh glow of hope overflowed her being,“They are right there doing their bit.”
Breakfast over, with Flash at her heels, she once again led her smallflock of sheep out to the frostbitten, sunlit pasture. There, afterspreading a blanket on a rock, she lay for a long time staring up at thesun. It seemed to her, at that moment, that all that terrible war wasbut a bad dream, that it never had happened, that all the world was asmuch at peace as was her sunny pasture.
The drone of airplane motors, followed by machine-guns tearing at thesky drove this illusion from her mind. The war was real, terribly real.It must be faced with eyes open and mind alert.
It was there on the rock that her brother found her. “So they drove youout of London? The dirty Huns!” he exclaimed, dropping to a seat besideher. “Cherry!” There were lines of fierce determination in his face,“I’m going to join up with the Royal Air Force.”
For a full minute she made no reply, just sat staring at the cloudlesssky. Perhaps she was thinking of the good times they had had together,fishing and swimming in summer, tobogganing and skiing in winter. And onrainy days there had been games before the open fire.
“Yes,” she whispered at last, as color flooded back into her face, “youmust join up, Brand. Everyone must. Those marvelous people, the women,the children must come out of the subway. They must sleep again in theirown homes in peace.”
“I—I’m glad you feel that way.” Brand swallowed hard. “That—that’s goingto make it easier. You and I have been pals, Cherry, all these years.
“I’ll tell you,” his voice picked up. “It’s a great secret. We’ve beentraining, Dave and I, training for two weeks. Training like everything.”
“D—Dave,” she whispered. “Why! He’s an American! This is not his war.”
“That’s what he thought,” Brand laughed low. “Perhaps he still thinksit, in a way. But he’ll join up. You wait! The young Lord says he will,and he usually knows.”
“The—the young Lord?” Cherry whispered.
“Yes, there’s part of the secret. He’s had two week’s leave. He’s beentraining us in the back pasture. Of course we’ve each done a lot offlying but this is special, regular fighting stuff, parachutes andeverything. And, Cherry, cross your heart and hope to die if I tellyou?”
“Cross—cross my heart.”
“All right. Dave’s already been in a day fight. He and the young Lordgot a Dornier! Boy, that was great! I wish I’d been in it with them.”
“Dave in an air battle?” The girl stared.
“Certainly was, and did his part nobly.”
While Cherry sat listening, breathless, Brand described Dave’s adventurein the clouds that day over England and the channel.
“Dave never whispered a word about it to me,” she said when the storywas told. Her shining eyes showed that the American boy stood out in hermind as a hero.
“Dave can keep a secret,” said Brand. “That’s why we all like him.”
“But you shouldn’t try to drag him into the war,” Cherry repliedthoughtfully. “England is not his country.”
“He’ll decide about that for himself when the time comes.” Brand sent asmall rock skipping down the hill. “He talked it all over with his unclein London two weeks ago. His uncle advised him to get all the flyingexperience he could. He thinks America will be in the war soon. ThenDave will be in it for sure. Great old boy, his uncle, a real sport. Hewas in the other war, an ace flyer. Thinks the air service is trumps.And who wouldn’t?” Brand’s face shone with enthusiasm. “Boy it’s great!All of it.” He sprang to his feet. “Even baling out. First time Istepped into space with a parachute on my back I thought my heart wouldjump out of my mouth. But when the old silk took hold and I driftedslowly down, Baby! That was swell! I’ve baled out twenty times sincethen—just practice you know. Now it’s as natural as swimming.”
“Brand?” Cherry whispered. “I’ve lost my voice. They say it will comeback. I—I don’t know. Can’t do my share. You’ll have to carry on. How Iwish I’d been born a boy!”
“Buck up, old girl!” Brand exclaimed cheerfully, “you’ll be right backin there again before you know it.
“And even if you aren’t,” he added soberly, “you’ve already done morethan any other gal in Merry England to help folks keep heads up andhopes high. That’s a whole great big lot.”
At that he went marching back down the hill.
“Great doings these last two weeks,” he thought to himself. They hadworked hard all of them. Truck loads of Brussels sprouts, turnips,carrots, apples and pears had been sent rumbling on their way to London.All their winter’s supplies had been safely stowed away. Beside thisthey had found time each day for two hours of practice flying. “There’smother,” he thought soberly. “Somehow, I’ll have to win her over.” Hadhe but known it his hated enemies, the Jerries, were to give him a liftwith his mother.
Dave too had been thinking of his mother. As he sat by the open firewith Cherry that evening, he said:
“Just had a letter from my mother.”
“I hope she’s well,” Cherry replied in her polite, English manner.
“Oh! Always!” Dave laughed. “She’s closing our New England home andgoing with my aunt to Florida. She has an independent income so she getsabout.”
“What does one do in Florida?” Cherry asked.
“Oh, bask in the sun until you’re brown, swim, play tennis, go tarponfishing,” Dave drawled lazily.
“Sounds rather dreamy.”
“It is, and unreal too. Do you know?” Dave exclaimed, “I haven’t thoughtof it before but since I came to England I’ve really just started tolive.”
“I—I’m glad,” Cherry whispered. “I’ve often thought—” She broke off tolisten.
“Enemy planes,” she whispered.
“Bombers!” Dave nodded.
“Sound as if they were right overhead. And they seem so low.” Cherryshuddered.
A half minute followed without a sound save the tick-tock of the tallold clock and the drone overhead.
Then, of a sudden, with a throaty whisper ten times more startling thana cry, Cherry sprang from her seat.
The stillness of the countryside had been shattered by a crash thatappeared to come from their own farmyard. Truth was, a bomb had fallenon their village two miles away.