Ruth Fielding at the War Front | Page 6

Ruth noticed this.
The American girl watched her hostess covertly. The bare mention of a
superstition that had the whole countryside by the throat, disturbed
much the countess' self-control.

The next moment there was a step in the hall and then the door opened
to admit the same young officer Ruth Fielding had met in the
lane--Major Henri Marchand.
"Pardon, Maman," he said, bowing, and speaking to his mother quite
like a little boy. "Do I offend?"
"Do come in and have a cup of tea, Henri. There is sugar and real
cream--thanks to our two young friends here. You remember our petite
Hetty, of course? And this is our very brave Mademoiselle Ruth
Fielding, of the American Red Cross. My younger son, Monsieur
Henri," the countess said easily.
Major Marchand advanced into the room promptly. To Henriette he
bowed with a smile. Ruth put out her hand impulsively, and he bowed
low above it and touched his lips to her fingers.
The girl started a little and glowed. The manner of his address rather
shocked her, for she was unused to the European form of greeting.
Henri's deep, purple eyes looked long into her own brown ones as he
lingeringly released her hand.
"Mademoiselle!" he murmured. "I am charmed."
Ruth did not know whether she was altogether charmed or not! She felt
that there was something rather overpowering in such a greeting, and
she rather doubted the sincerity of it.
She could understand, however, little Henriette's sentimental worship
of the young major. Henri Marchand was the type of man to hold the
interest of most girls. His eyes were wonderful; his cheek as clear and
almost as soft as a woman's; he wore his uniform with an air scarcely to
be expressed in ordinary words.
Henriette immediately became tongue-tied. Ruth's experience had,
however, given her ease in any company. The wonderful Major
Marchand made little impression upon her. It was plain that he wished
to interest the Americaine Mademoiselle.

The little tea party was interrupted by the appearance of Dolge at the
library door.
"A young American in an ambulance inquires for Mademoiselle
Fielding at the gate," said Dolge, cap in hand. "She is needed in haste,
below there at the hospital."
CHAPTER III
A PERILOUS PROJECT
"That can be no other than Charlie Bragg," announced Ruth, getting up
in haste, and naming a young friend of hers from the States who had
been an ambulance driver for some months. "Something must have
happened."
"I fear something is happening," Major Marchand said softly. "The
sudden activity along this front must be significant, don't you think,
Mademoiselle Fielding?"
Ruth's lips were pressed together for a moment in thought, and she
eyed the major shrewdly.
"I really could not say," she observed coldly. Then she turned from him
to take the hand of the countess.
"I'm sorry our little tea must be broken in upon," the American girl
said.
She could not help loving the countess, no matter what some of the
neighbors believed regarding her. But Ruth had her doubts about this
son who was always in Paris and never at the front.
Henriette was too bashful to remain longer than Ruth, so she rose to go
as well. The countess kissed her little neighbor and sent her favor to the
girl's father and mother. Major Marchand accompanied the two visitors
out of the chateau and toward the entrance gate, which Dolge had not
opened.

"I sincerely hope we may meet again, Mademoiselle Fielding," the
major said softly.
"That is not likely," she responded with soberness.
"No? Do you expect to leave Clair soon?"
"No," she said, and there was sharpness in her voice. "But I am much
engaged in our hospital work--and you are not likely to be brought
there, are you?"
Evidently he felt the bite in her question. He flushed and dropped his
gaze. Her intimation was not to be mistaken. He seemed unlikely to be
brought wounded to the hospital.
Before he could recover himself they were at the gate. Dolge opened
the postern and the two girls stepped through, followed by the French
officer. The young fellow in the American ambulance immediately
hailed Ruth.
"Oh, I say, Miss Ruth!" he cried, "sorry to hunt you out this way, but
you are needed down at the hospital."
"So I presume, or you would not have come for me, Charlie," she told
him, smiling. "What is it?"
"Supplies needed for one of the field hospitals," he said. "And I tell you
straight, Miss Ruth, they're in bad shape there. Not half enough help.
The supply room of that station is all shot away--terrible thing."
"Oh, dear!" gasped Ruth. "Do you mean that the Germans have
bombed it?"
"It wasn't an air raid. Yet it must have been done deliberately. They