“And you also have insulted and humiliated me,” replied Grace. “It is my feeling that you were well entitled to all that you received, but my regret is that I permitted myself to be the instrument of the rebuke. You are my superior. I am at all times ready to take and obey any reasonable orders that you may give me. However, we must understand each other. My self-respect will not permit me to remain silent under such tongue-lashings as you have been indulging in. It must cease, Mrs. Smythe!” “You--you are telling me, your commanding officer, what I must do?” demanded the woman, exercising more than ordinary self-restraint. “No, not that, Mrs. Smythe. What I am seeking to do is to convince you that it will not be advisable for the peace of mind of either of us for you to continue your unkind treatment of me.” “And, in the event that I decide to do as I please in all matters relating to your official duties, what then?” Grace shrugged her shoulders. “Attention!” Grace smiled sweetly. “The regulations do not require me to salute a superior when that superior is seated, without head covering and with blouse unbuttoned. Neither do the regulations require that I shall come to attention in such circumstances. This is not an official call and I do not expect you to receive me as such, therefore you must expect no more of me. I am here as woman to woman to ask that you treat me like a human being, and then to ask your forgiveness for my questionable revenge of to-day. Even the Huns have signed an armistice and agreed to cease fighting. Surely you and I as good Americans should be able to settle our differences by declaring an armistice; and you may rest assured that I shall do my part toward preserving the peace. What are your feelings on the matter and your orders for the day, please?” “Driver, my feelings are my own. You came here with the deliberate intention of further insulting me.” “I am sincerely sorry that you look at it in that light. I know you will not feel that way after you have thought over what I have said.” “Have you anything further to say, driver? If so, say it and have done, for it will be your last opportunity.” “Only to ask again for orders, Mrs. Smythe,” replied Grace sweetly. “My orders are that you get out of my sight instantly!” The supervisor rose, buttoned her blouse to the throat and put on her cap. “Go!” she commanded, pointing to the cellar opening. Grace Harlowe clicked her heels together and snapped into a salute, then executing a right-about, marched from the cellar and back to her own headquarters under a ruined cottage. CHAPTER VI MESSING WITH A BRIGADIER “The car has gone?” “Yes, Mrs. Gray. One of our men drivers took it out under orders this morning,” the sergeant informed her. “Whose orders?” “Captain Grant’s.” “No provision then has been made for a car for me?” questioned Grace. “Not that I am aware of. Sorry, but I can’t help it. It’s orders.”