It was mid-afternoon of a cloudy day in early autumn. Sally Scott glided to the one wide window in her room and pulled down the shade. Then, with movements that somehow suggested deep secrecy, she took an oblong, black box, not unlike an overnight bag, from the closet. After placing this with some care on her study table, she pressed a button, and caught the broad side of the box, that, falling away, revealed a neat row of buttons and switches. Above these was an inch-wide opening where a number of spots shone dimly.

After a glance over her shoulder, Sally shook her head, tossing her reddish-brown hair about, fixed her eyes on this strange box and then with her long, slender, nervous fingers threw on a switch, another, and yet another in quick succession. Settling back in her chair, she watched the spots above the switches turn into tiny, gleaming, red lamps that gave off an eerie light.

“Red for blood, black for death,” someone had said to her. She shuddered at the thought.

From the box came a low, humming sound. She turned a switch. The hum increased. She turned it again and once more the hum rose in intensity. This time, however, it was different. Suddenly the hum was broken by a low, indistinct hut—hut—gr—gr—gr—hut—hut—hut.

“Oh!” The girl’s lips parted as a look of surprise and almost of triumph spread over her face.

And then, suddenly, she started to leap from her chair. A key had rattled in the door.

Before she could decide what she should do, the door swung open and someone snapped on a light.

And then a voice said, “Oh! I’m sorry! I’ve been in the bright sunlight. The room seemed completely dark.”

“It really doesn’t matter,” Sally spoke slowly, studying the other girl’s face as she did so. The girl was large and tall. Her hair was jet black. She had a round face and dark, friendly eyes. This much Sally learned at a glance. “It doesn’t matter,” she repeated. “I suppose we are to be roommates.”

“It looks that way,” the other girl agreed. “I just arrived.” She set her bag on the floor.

“I see.” Sally was still thinking her way along. “Then I suppose you don’t know that we are not allowed to have radios in our rooms.”

“No—I—”

“But you see, I have one,” Sally went on. “I suppose I could be sent home for keeping it, but I’m going to chance it. I—I’ve just got to. It—it’s terribly important that I keep it. It—well, you can see it’s not like other radios. It’s got—”

“Red eyes,” the other girl said in a low voice.

“Yes, but that’s not all. You couldn’t listen to a program on it if you tried. It—it’s very different. There are only two others like it in all the world.”

“I see,” said the new girl.

“No, you don’t, see at all,” Sally declared. “You couldn’t possibly. The only question right now is: will you share my secret? Can I count on you?”

“Yes,” the black-haired girl replied simply. And she meant just that. Sally was sure of it.

“Thanks, heaps.” Her eyes shone. “You won’t be sorry. Whatever may happen you’ll not be dragged into it.

“And,” she added after a pause, “there’s nothing really wrong about it, I’m a loyal American citizen, too loyal perhaps, but you see, my father was in the World War, Grandfather at Manila Bay, and all that.”

“My father died in France,” the large, dark-eyed girl said simply. “I was too young to recall him.”

“That was really tough. I’ve had a lot of fun with my dad.

“But excuse me.” Once again Sally’s fingers gripped a knob and the mysterious radio set up a new sort of hum. With a headset clamped over her ears, she listened intently, then said in a low tone:

“Hello. Nancy! Are you there?”

Again she listened, then laughed low.

“I’m sorry, Nancy,” she apologized, speaking through a small mouthpiece. “Something terribly exciting happened. I got something on the shortest wave-length, where nothing’s supposed to be.

“Yes, I did!” she exclaimed. Then: “No! It can’t be! Fifteen minutes. Oh, boy! I’ll have to step on it. I—I’ll be right down. Meet you at the foot of the ladder.”

“What ladder?” the big girl asked in surprise.

“The one from first floor to second, of course. We don’t have stairways in this place, you know, only ladders.” Sally laughed low.

After turning off the switches, Sally snapped the black box shut, then hid it in a dark corner of the closet.

“But I just came up a stairway,” the new girl insisted.

“Oh, no you didn’t!” Sally laughed. “It was a ladder!”

“But—”

“You’re new here so you’ll have to work that one out. I’m sure you’ll find I’m right.” Sally was hastily putting on hat, coat, and gloves. “I’ve got to skip. Have my personal interview in fifteen minutes. That’s where they try to find out what we’re good for. What’s your specialty? Oh, yes, and what’s your name?”

“I’m Barbara Brown. And I’m scared to death for fear they’ll send me home. I haven’t done a thing but sew, and work in a laundry, and cook a little.”

“They’ll find a place for you. Just tell them your life story. Don’t be afraid. You’ll win.”

Sally was out of the room and down the “ladder” before Barbara could have counted ten.

At the foot of the “ladder” she met Nancy McBride, a girl she had known well in the half-forgotten days of high-school basketball.

“It’s perfectly terrible starting out in a new place with a deep secret,” Sally said in a low tone as they hurried away toward the “U.S.S. Mary Sacks” where interviews for all recent recruits were conducted.

“Yes, it is,” Nancy agreed soberly. “A trifle wacky if you’d ask me.”

“But it’s so very important,” Sally insisted.

“More important than making good with the WAVES?” Nancy asked soberly. “For my part I can’t think of a thing in the world that could be half as important as that. That’s just how I feel about it.”

“Yes, that’s right. Oh! If I were thrown out of the WAVES I’d just want to die.” Sally’s face took on a tragic look. “And yet—”

“And yet, what?”

“Well, you just don’t know old C. K. Kennedy, that’s all. I’ve been working with him since I was fifteen and now I’m twenty-one.”

“Working at radio? What did you know about radio when you were fifteen?”

“That’s just it. I didn’t know a thing. You see, a radio came dropping right out of the sky and—”

“Out of the sky?” Nancy stared.

“Yes, right into the middle of a meadow where I was looking for a meadowlark’s nest.”

“Say! Why don’t you talk sense? You can’t expect people—”

“Shush,” Sally whispered. “Here’s the gangplank of the 'U.S.S. Mary Sacks.’ We’ll have to get right in. Don’t betray me. I’ll explain it all later.”

As they entered, a girl in the nobby blue uniform of a WAVE said:

“Take the ladder to Deck Two. Turn to the right and there you are.”

“Yes,” Sally said to Nancy, with a sharp intake of breath, “there we are. Right in the midst of things. Some sharp-eyed examiner will probe our minds to find out how much we know, how keen we are, what our motives for joining up were, and—”

“And then she’ll start deciding what we can do best,” Nancy broke in.

“And if she decides I’ll make a good secretary to an Admiral,” Sally sighed, “I’ll wish I hadn’t come. Well—” She took a long breath. “Here we go up Fortune’s ladder. Wish you luck.”

“Same to you.” Then up they went.

In the meantime the big girl, Barbara, opened her bag, shook out her clothes, packed some away in a drawer, hung others up, then dropped into a chair for a few long, long thoughts. The truth was at that moment she wished she hadn’t come.

She thought of the steam laundry where she had worked for three years. All the girls laughing and talking, the fine clean smell of sheets as they ran through the mangle, the rattle and clank of machines and the slap of flat-irons—it all came to her with a rush.

“It’s all so strange here—” she whispered. “Go down the ladder, that’s what she said. What ladder, I wonder?”

Then she jumped up. She would have to get out of here, begin to face things. What things? Just any things. If you faced them, they lost their terror. They stepped to one side and let you by.

After putting on her hat and coat, she opened the door to stand there for a moment. Truth was, she was looking for the ladder.

“Hi, there!” came in a cheery voice as a girl in a natty blue suit and jaunty hat rounded a corner in the hall. “You’re one of the new ones, aren’t you? Close the hatch and let’s get down the ladder for a coke at the USO.”

“The ha-hatch?” Barbara faltered. “What’s a hatch and where’s the ladder?”

“Right down—oh!” the girl in blue broke off. “I forgot. Of course you wouldn’t know. You see, we are WAVES, you and I—”

“Yes, I—”

“So this place we live in is a ship, at least we say it is. This is not the second floor but the second deck. The door is a hatch, the walls bulkheads and, of course, the stairway is a ladder.”

“Oh!” Barbara beamed. “That’s the way it is!”

Of course Sally and Nancy had not boarded a ship for their interview. The “U.S.S. Mary Sacks” was a two story building turned over by the college to the WAVES. And it was up a stairs, not a real ladder, that the two girls climbed. It was all a part of the program that was to turn girls from all walks of life into sailors.

“Your name is Sally Scott?” said a girl in a WAVES uniform.

“That’s right,” said Sally.

“Come into my parlor,” the girl said, smiling, broadly and indicating a small booth furnished with two chairs and a narrow table.

“‘Said the spider to the fly.’” Sally returned the smile as she finished the quotation..

“Oh! It’s not nearly as bad as that,” said the blonde examiner. “The fly did not escape. You will, I am sure.”

“Six months after the war is over.” Sally did not smile.

“Yes, that sounds a bit serious, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does,” Sally agreed.

“It’s nice to have a sense of humor and also a serious side,” said the examiner. “We like them that way. You should get on well.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you think so.”

“My name is Marjory Mills. I won’t keep you long, at least not longer than you wish to stay.” Ensign Mills motioned Sally to a chair.

“By the way,” she said as she dropped into the opposite chair, “why did you want to join the WAVES?”

“It’s our war. We’re all in it. I hate the way the people of France, Belgium, and all the rest are treated. They’re slaves. They’ve got to be freed.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ve three cousins in the war. We were great pals. All the boys of our crowd are gone, and some of the girls.”

“Lonesome? Is that it?”

“No, not entirely. I want them to come back, never wanted anything quite so much. They can’t come back until we’ve done all we can to help them.”

“That’s true,” Ensign Mills spoke quietly. “You’re sure that it wasn’t romance, love of excitement, the desire to go places and see things that brought you here?”

Sally looked into the other girl’s eyes, then said:

“Yes, of course it was, in part. No one motive ever draws us into making a great decision, at least not often. Of course I dream of romance, adventure, and travel. Who doesn’t?”

“We all do,” Marjory Mills agreed frankly. “The only thing is, those can’t be our main motives. If they were we should meet disappointment and perhaps miserably fail. ‘Blood, sweat, and tears.’ That is what we have ahead of us.”

“Yes,” Sally replied soberly. “I know. My father has told me. He was in France for more than a year.”

“In the last war? Yes, then you would know. We like to have daughters of veterans. Some of them are among our best. And now,” Marjory Mills’s voice was brisk again. “What do you think you’d like to do? Or, first, would you like to tell me your story?”

“I’d love to. How much time have I?” Sally looked at her watch.

“As much as you like.” Ensign Mills settled back in her chair. “Shoot!”