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Updated: June 28, 2025
Directly it came to a standstill, Maurie jumped out of the train, and when, a moment later, she descended from their carriage, she could see the little fair head half hidden in the mother's arms. Nervously, reticently, she approached them. Then Mrs. Priestly looked up and the sad grey eyes rested on Sally. She held out her hand in hesitating embarrassment. "You are Miss Bishop?" she said.
"I don't believe she'd like me to." "Why on earth not? Here, let me get at that stove. We're going to have some tea. But why on earth not?" "I know she was jealous. Maurie used to write her lots of letters about me. She was afraid he was getting to love me. I could see that this afternoon. I could see it so plainly that I told her. I admitted that I'd tried to get him to love me and failed."
Patsy had already gone for the water and in a few minutes Beth was deftly cleansing the wound. "How did it happen, Maurie?" asked Jones. "I was with you most of the time and noticed nothing wrong. Besides, you said nothing about it." "It was on the road, just as we picked up that fallen soldier with the hole in his back.
Even as the girl was climbing to her seat the line of Belgians broke and came pouring toward them. Maurie was prompt in starting the car and the next moment the ambulance was rolling swiftly along the smooth highway in the direction of Dunkirk and the sounds of fray grew faint behind them.
"Perhaps, Maurie, your Clarette will come to you without your seeking her, for all Belgium seems headed toward France just now. What do you think? Will the Germans capture Dunkirk?" The man brightened visibly at this turn in the conversation. "Not to-day, sir; not for days to come," he replied.
"Your fate is surely a cruel one, Maurie," declared Mr. Merrick. "Perhaps," ventured Beth, "we may help you to find your wife and children." The Belgian seemed pleased with these expressions of sympathy. He straightened up, threw out his chest and bowed very low. "That is my story," he repeated; "but you must know it is also the story of thousands of Belgians.
They learned from her that Maurie or Henri, as she insisted he was named had several times escaped from her house at night, while she was asleep, and returned at daybreak in the morning, and this information led them to suspect he had managed to have several secret conferences with Lieutenant Elbl previous to their flight.
She did not understand English, but she shook her fist in Mr. Merrick's face and danced around in an elephantine fashion and jabbered a stream of French. "What does she say?" he asked Patsy, who was laughing merrily at the absurd scene. "She demands to be put ashore at once. But shall we do that, and put poor Maurie in peril of being overtaken?"
"We can hear the boom of guns yet, even at this distance, and we left the battle line flowing back and forth like the waves of the ocean. Have a cup of tea, Maurie?" The man hesitated. "I do not like to disturb anyone," he said slowly, "but if one of the young ladies is disengaged I would be grateful if she looks at my arm."
And then, to compensate for all the unpleasantness in her home, there was Maurie Maurie whom every night since that first occasion of their friendship she said good night to. With arms round each other's necks, they said their prayers together Sally who had offered no supplication on her knees since the night when Traill had left her.
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