They were too young to know or to care. When the imagination is trying its
wings it is undismayed even by a world at war.
CHAPTER V
I
That night Alexina knew that romance had surely come to her. She shared her
room with three old ladies who slept fitfully between blasts of dynamite.
But she sat at the window with no desire for oblivion.
On the lawn paced a young man with a rifle in the crook of his arm. He was
tall and young and very gallant of bearing; no less a person than Mortimer
Dwight, who had been sworn in that morning as a member of the Citizens'
Patrol, and at his own request detailed to keep watch over the house of
Mrs. Groome.
He had not been able to pay his promised visits during the day but had
arrived at seven o'clock, dining beside Mrs. Abbott, and surrounded by old
ladies whose names were as historic as Mrs. Groome's. The cook had deserted
after the second heavy shock, and, with her wardrobe in a pillow case, had
tramped to the farthest confines of the Presidio. It was not fear alone
that induced her flight. There was a rumor that the Government would feed
the city, and why should not a hard-working woman enjoy a month or two of
sheer idleness? Let the quality cook for themselves. It would do them good.
James and the housemaid had cooked the dinner, and Alexina and her friends
waited on the table. Then the girls, to Alexina's relief, went home to
inquire after their families, and she accompanied Mr.
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