“Anything to say, Mrs. Gray?” “I think not, sir, except that we should be moving.” “Yes, get me a car at once, if you will be so good,” urged Mrs. Smythe. “If I may offer a suggestion, sir, I do not think it would be prudent for either Mrs. Smythe or the others to ride in. We would all be chilled through and on the verge of pneumonia. My advice, if I may offer it, would be that we walk.” “Walk? Never!” exclaimed the supervisor. “I demand a car. It is my right to make such a demand.” “I fear I cannot give you a car. The best I can possibly do is to put you on a truck, but I agree with Mrs. Gray that it would be much wiser for you to walk, all of you.” “A truck!” moaned the woman. “I’ll walk, thank you. It is much more dignified than being jounced about on an army truck. No army truck for me, thank you.” “Very good. I will see to it that the belongings of the party are sent in so that you may have change of clothing as soon as we reach the end of the day’s march.” “Do I understand that you will do nothing to this woman?” demanded Mrs. Smythe. “I will report the matter to Captain Rowland. May I assist you up the bank?” he offered politely. Mrs. Smythe accepted with all the grace she could assume. Grace’s face wore a serious expression as she looked at the car hanging over the edge of the bridge. “I could do no worse myself,” observed Miss Briggs to her companion. “I doubt if I could equal that achievement,” agreed Grace. “That woman is going to make trouble for me, and I am inclined to think that I deserve all that she will try to give me. You know it was an accident, Elfreda?” “An accident? It was that! Why, the train wreck on our way to Paris with the wounded doughboys was no more of an accident than this. What you mean to say is that you did not do it on purpose. Personally, Elfreda Briggs has her own views on that phase of the matter.” “Elfreda!” rebuked Grace. “However, it is some satisfaction to see our beloved superior taking the same medicine that we are taking; walking for our health, as it were.” Mrs. Smythe was making heavy weather of it, and Grace, filled with compassion, stepped up to her and linked an arm within that of the supervisor. “Please permit me to assist you along,” she urged gently. Mrs. Smythe threw off Grace’s arm angrily. “Be good enough to keep your hands off. I wish nothing whatever to do with you.” “Mrs. Smythe, please do not speak to me in that tone. I feel much worse about it than you possibly can, and I blame myself, even if that truck driver did crowd me into the railing. Won’t you please forgive me?” “You will learn later what I propose to do to you, driver. Do not forget that you are speaking to your superior officer and not to your equal.” “I had suspected something of the sort myself,” answered the Overton girl, drawing herself up and moving on ahead at a rapid stride.