Page:War's dark frame (IA warsdarkframe00camp).pdf/49

Rh soldiers' convalescent home to pick up two wounded men, for Englishmen don't like to use automobiles without sharing their luxury with the sufferers.

We halted at a neat farm in a hollow. A horsey-looking individual appeared.

"Where's the young lady?" my host asked.

The other took his pipe from his mouth and pointed with it in the direction of a distant rise.

"In summit field with Jerry and Jinny."

How's she coming on?"

The horsey man puffed thoughtfully at his pipe.

"Better," he said grudgingly, " than I calculated. She knows something about horses."

We went on to the top of the rise. The soldiers, because of their wounds, couldn't leave the automobile, but my host led me down a lane to a broad field. A solitary, dusty figure crossed the field with long strides, calling cheerily to the rawboned horses she drove, clinging with real skill to the handle of a plough.

My daughter," my wealthy host announced.

Real pride rang in his voice.

She was a very pretty girl—all the handsomer, one felt, for a thorough coat of tan. Nor could her corduroy skirt or her khaki blouse diminish the grace of her figure. It was easy to understand her father's pride. She talked pleasantly with us