Perhaps it was due to Nona Davis' advice, or perhaps to Dick Thornton's own judgment, that he decided to make his position clear to Barbara.

He had no thought of her returning his liking; nevertheless, a confession appeared the more manly and straightforward.

But beginning the next day's events moved ahead so swiftly that there was never a chance for Dick to carry out his intention.

By noon a message was sent him by his sister Mildred. She explained that soon after breakfast she had been summoned to the German prison for a consultation in regard to Eugenia Peabody. She found the prison officers both embarrassed and annoyed.

For the young American woman whom they had been compelled to arrest had become dangerously ill. They had not been prepared for such a contingency. She had been locked up in what had formerly served as an ordinary jail in Brussels and there were no accommodations for seriously ill persons.

They could not determine what should be done. It was extremely awkward to have their prison doctor declare the prisoner a victim of typhoid fever, and to have the physician sent from the American Relief Committee confirm his opinion.

Suppose this Miss Peabody should be so inconsiderate as to die? The fact might arouse international complications and would certainly precipitate unpleasant discussion.

The young woman had been kept a prisoner for something over a month without a trial, but even in this time important pressure had been exerted for her release.

Because she had been an American Red Cross nurse, naturally all Red Cross societies were interested. Moreover, she was said to be a member of an old and prominent New England family, who would make themselves heard in her behalf. Then as this Miss Peabody was herself wealthy and had been using her money for the benefit of the Belgian children, what might not be said in her defense? There was a chance that the German government would be accused of resenting her care of the Belgian children.

In order to show their good feeling, Mildred had been permitted to visit Eugenia. She found her friend in a small room like a cell. It was of stone with only one window, a stool and a cot bed.

But whatever Eugenia must have suffered for her breach of faith, she was now past being disturbed by mental unhappiness.

For an hour Mildred sat beside her friend trying to arouse her. But Eugenia gave no sign of recognition. She did not seem to be enduring pain, but was in a stupor from fever.

Mildred felt unhappy and helpless. There was but little chance of her friend's recovery if she remained without the right care. Moreover, the American Red Cross girls owed it to one another to keep together through good and evil fortunes.

"What would Eugenia have done for one of them under the same circumstances?" Mildred tried her best to decide. She implored the prison authorities to allow her to remain and care for her friend. But they refused. It was not that they were unwilling for their prisoner to be properly looked after. It was that there were no arrangements whereby it was practical for Mildred Thornton to continue at the prison. She could come each day and stay for a time with her friend. And this was, of course, a surprising concession.

So after Mildred returned to her own quarters she had sent a note of explanation to her brother.

Then began the most anxious week that the American Red Cross girls had endured since their arrival in Europe. Before now anxiety had harassed one or two of them at a time. Now they were all equally concerned.

Eugenia did not grow better. From day to day the report of her condition became worse. Mildred Thornton was the only one of the three girls ever allowed to enter Eugenia's room at the prison. However, Nona and Barbara hovered about the neighborhood like restless ghosts. Indeed, they now appeared as deeply attached to each other as in the early days of their acquaintance.

Nor was Dick Thornton much less anxious. He had always liked and admired Eugenia. Although he disapproved her action in regard to Colonel Carton, it was not possible wholly to object to it. One had to have a sneaking sense of appreciation for a girl or man who would risk so much for an entire stranger.

However, interest in Eugenia's condition was not confined to her few friends. In a little while her case became the most talked of in Brussels among the Americans and their acquaintances. Then the news of Eugenia's arrest and the reason for it appeared in the American daily papers together with the account of her critical illness. Afterwards these facts were copied in the newspapers of England, France and Russia. Eugenia became an international figure.

Now and then Barbara tried to smile, thinking how Eugenia would have resented her notoriety had she been aware of it. But the idea did not create much mirth. It was so far from amusing to picture one's friend at the point of death, shut up in a tiny room, with only such crude care as the prison physician and nurse could give her.

The situation was unendurable; nevertheless, like a great many other situations about which one says this same thing, it had to be endured.

The German officials in command of the city of Brussels assuredly grew weary of visits from white-faced American girls and their friends, all bent upon the same quest. Was it not possible that Eugenia be removed to a hospital or to her own home until she recovered?

The answer remained the same. Much as the situation was to be deplored, one could not surrender a prisoner because of ill health. Discipline must be enforced.

Then a day came when Mildred and Dick Thornton were granted an unexpected interview with the American Minister in Brussels. They had seen him several times before, but on this occasion it was the Minister who sent for them.

He had previously been kind and interested in Eugenia's case, but so far his good will had not availed in her behalf. He could only offer his good will, because it was not possible to demand the prisoner's liberation when she had frankly confessed her offense against the German administration.

Yet as soon as they were permitted to enter the study where the Minister was seated at his desk, Mildred Thornton had her first moment of hopefulness. For Mr. Whitlock had become her friend since this trouble began and his expression indicated good news.

"There was no use going into particulars," he declared, "but some days before he had received certain letters from Washington. It appeared that Judge Thornton had been to Washington in Eugenia's behalf, according to his daughter's request, where he must have interviewed persons of importance." Whatever took place the American Minister now announced that he had placed Judge Thornton's communications before the proper German officials. Whether they were influenced by these letters, or whether they concluded that there was more to be lost than gained by detaining their prisoner under the present conditions, it is impossible to say. The important fact was that Eugenia might at last be moved to her own house. There she was to be allowed to stay under guard until such time as she could safely leave the country. She would then be conducted to the border line of Holland and allowed to depart. But Eugenia Peabody was never again to set foot within a German country during the course of the present war. If she should enter it she would immediately become liable to arrest.

So in spite of the possible danger Eugenia was immediately removed to her own house in the woods, the house supposedly inhabited by a ghost.

But instead of ghosts it was now haunted by the other three Red Cross girls, all of whom insisted upon sharing the labor of caring for Eugenia and looking after her home.

Yet after all it was on Barbara Meade that the largest share of the burden fell. For the children had grown accustomed to her since their first friend's departure. Then by a freak of chance Eugenia seemed to wish Barbara near her the greater part of the time. She was not conscious, so her desire was only an eccentricity of illness. Nevertheless, Barbara naturally tried to be with her friend whenever it was humanly possible.

So it is easy to see why Dick Thornton found no opportunity to confide to Barbara the dream that lay so near his heart. He saw her now and then, of course, in his own frequent visits to the household, but seldom alone.

Occasionally, when for a moment he had a chance for a quiet word with her, Dick was not willing to intrude his own desires.

Barbara looked so worn and fragile these days. The roundness had gone from her cheeks as well as their color, her eyes and lips rarely smiled. It would only trouble her further to have him cast his burden upon her. For Barbara would, of course, be sorry to cause him unhappiness. So Dick decided to wait until serener times.

One afternoon, however, the opportunity for entrusting one of his secrets arrived.

For the past three days Eugenia had been growing continuously weaker. The crisis of her disease had passed and her fever was not so high. But her weakness had become a more dangerous symptom.

About four o'clock Dick drove out to the house in the woods with Dr. Mason, who was one of the physicians devoting himself to Eugenia's case.

He did not go indoors, but asked that one of the three American Red Cross girls be sent out to speak to him. It was a cold afternoon, yet the sun was shining and Dick felt that the fresh air would be of benefit. No matter which of the three girls was free to join him, they could walk up and down in the yard for a few minutes. The suspense of waiting for Dr. Mason's verdict would be less severe outdoors than shut up inside.

But although Dick walked up and down the front porch for quite ten minutes, no one appeared. Either Dr. Mason had forgotten to deliver his message or else the girls were too busy or too nervous to leave the house.

Dick finally grew weary of the veranda as a place for a promenade. A little later some one would be sure to come out to him, and in the meantime he would walk a short distance into the woods.

A few yards along the path the young man stumbled across Barbara.

She was wearing her gray blue nursing cape and was sitting upon a log. She looked so tiny and was huddled so close that Dick somehow thought of a little gray squirrel.

Barbara was too engrossed in her thoughts to hear him until he was almost upon her. Then Dick grew frightened, because instead of speaking she jumped to her feet and put up her hand to her throat as if she were choking.

It did not occur to Dick that she was terrified. He did not dream that she had run away from the house because she dared not wait to hear Dr. Mason's decision in regard to Eugenia. Now, of course, she thought him sent to her with a message.

And the worst of it was Dick did not say a word. He simply stared at her, mute and sorrowful, because gay little Bab had become such a pathetic figure on this November afternoon.

Dick's silence could mean but one thing to the girl.

She made a little fluttering sound, wavered, and the next moment Dick was holding her upright on her feet with both his arms.

At this same instant Barbara forgot both Eugenia and herself.

She had felt the world growing dark before her eyes a moment before. Now a miracle brought her back to her senses.

She drew herself away at once and stood upright. Then placed both her hands on Dick Thornton's two arms.

"Dick," she said in an awed tone, "didn't you use both your arms just now, when you kept me from falling?"

Her companion nodded.

"I have been meaning to tell you, Barbara, but you have been too busy with other things. My arm has been growing stronger each day, but I didn't know myself until this minute that I could use the lame one as easily as the good. I suppose because I was frightened about you, I forgot my own weakness."

Then while Barbara was gazing at her friend in silence, but with her eyes expressing her joy in his news, Mildred Thornton came running along the path toward them.

"Dr. Mason says Eugenia is much better this afternoon. He has the greatest hopes of her," she cried, while still several yards away.

"Gene recognized Nona and asked for something to eat. Nona says she even objected to the way in which she gave her medicine, so I suppose we have the old Gene back again. Come with me, Barbara dear, Dr. Mason says we may both speak to her. Afterwards she is to be left alone to go to sleep and I shall have to try to keep the children quiet. You must see if you can get Jan away from her door. The boy has not moved from there since six o'clock this morning."

Then Mildred condescended to recognize her brother. But after kissing him hurriedly, she put her arm about Barbara's waist and both girls fled back to the house.

Later, Dick returned to town without seeing either one of them again that afternoon.