and in forty-eight he was her slave. The elderly chambermaid mothered
her, and failed to report that Sara Lee was doing a small washing in
her room and had pasted handkerchiefs over the ancient walnut of her
wardrobe.

"Going over, are you?" she said. "Dear me, what courage you've got,
miss! They tell me things is horrible over there."

"That's why I'm going," replied Sara Lee, and insisted on helping to
make up the bed.

"It's easier when two do it," she said casually.

Mr. Travers put in a fretful twenty-four hours before he came to see her.
He lunched at Brooks', and astounded an elderly member of the House by
putting her problem to him.

"A young girl!" exclaimed the M. P. "Why, deuce take it, it's no place
for a young girl."

"An American," explained Mr. Travers uncomfortably. "She's perfectly
able to look after herself."

"Probably a correspondent in disguise. They'll go to any lengths."

"She's not a correspondent."

"Let her stay in Boulogne. There's work there in the hospitals."

"She's not a nurse. She's a--well, she's a cook. Or so she says."