Kitty leaned over and whispered to Sergeant Bradshaw at the piano. Laughing, he began the Australian folk song that was such a rage, _Waltzing Matilda_. Kitty sang the first verse, glancing around the room with her flashing smile as the words raced from her lips. Then at the chorus she lifted her hands with an impelling movement and said, “Everybody sing.” Instantly the room rocked with nonsense and rhythm. After the storm subsided Kitty sang _Tipperary_. While they clapped at the conclusion she ran off to the Canteen kitchen. Ned Miller was sent in to drag her out. She thrust her head through the doorway to call, “It’s my night to wash dishes.” “We’ll wash the dishes,” came a chorus in retort. “Against the rules. I’ll sing another night.” She was flushed and buoyantly happy when she closed the door and turned back toward the sink. “Gosh, you oughtn’t to be washing dishes!” exclaimed Sally. “Anybody with a voice like that!” “Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Kitty. “They’re badly in need of dish washers, and they obviously don’t need singers.” “Don’t they?” burst forth Judy. “Why Kitty, they ought to send you overseas to sing to the boys behind the fighting lines.” “Don’t make fun of me, Judy.” Judy had really voiced a wish that lay in the deepest recesses of Kitty’s heart. To such a career as that her daydreaming had constantly taken her since war began. But its fulfillment seemed beyond her wildest dreams. The practical side of her nature had tried to still those high ambitions as she planned to go first into the WAVES, and later into Canteen work. “You have a way with the boys that makes them laugh and cry, cheer and clap,” continued Sally. “She sure has. That’s the sort of entertainer they ought to be thrilled to find,” added Judy. Kitty didn’t tell them that a thousand times in her daydreaming she had visioned herself doing what she had just done. It had given her the greatest thrill she had ever known. When she finished the dishes she had a free interval until another pile accumulated, so she went outside to find Brad. She was eager to know what he would think of her experience at the troop train. “Say, Kit, they’re all crazy about your singing,” said Brad when she joined him. “Thanks, Brad.” “Captain Crawford heard you, and said you surely ought to be with the entertainers.” “Oh, Brad, I’m not half good enough for that!” “Of course you are! You’ll be surprised at what he went on to say.” Her eyes were shining as she waited expectantly. “Said he was going to write a friend of his—an official talent scout. He said he must hear about you.” “I can’t believe it!” As they talked they crossed the long hall, and finally went out to their quiet corner in the court. “I’ve something to tell you,” Kitty said as they sat down. Then quickly she gave him an account of her experience at the troop train.