Electronic book host

He has had his notice and is ready to go. He is more
than forty years old. I know my room waiter kept watch on me until he
satisfied himself I was what I claimed to be--an American--and not an
English spy posing as an American.
So, at first, did the cheery little girl cashier in the Arcade barber
shop downstairs. For all I know, she may still have me under suspicion
and be making daily reports on me to the secret-service people. The
women help, too--and the children. The wives and daughters of the
wealthiest men in the town are minding the sick and the wounded. The
mothers and the younger girls meet daily to make hospital supplies.
Women come to you in the cafes at night, wearing Red Cross badges on
their left arms, and shaking sealed tin canisters into which you are
expected to drop contributions for invalided soldiers.
Since so many of their teachers are carrying rifles or wearing swords,
the pupils of the grammar schools and the high schools are being
organized into squads of crop-gatherers.


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