Molly Brown of Kentucky Part 25

"But this one already knows you," and Philippe produced Judy's card.

"Miss Julia Kean," Jo read in amazement. "How did she get out here, anyhow? Where is she?"

"Over here with my mother," and Philippe looked with some amus.e.m.e.nt at the evident blush that spread over Jo's freckled cheeks. She still had on the grotesque cap and goggles which would have made recognition of her difficult. She wanted very much to see Judy. She wanted to hear something of her Polly, too, and she intended to have Judy look him up if possible, and report to her.

"Will you see her?"

"Sure!"

"Miss Kean is a charming girl, Williams, isn't she?" said the quizzing Philippe, looking searchingly at his companion as they made their way across the field.

"You bet!" said Jo.

"Have you known her long?"

"Quite a while," and Jo's cheeks again were suffused with a dark flush.

"Poor little fellow!" thought Philippe. "I can't bear to tell him she is to be married. He is such a dare devil the chances are he will be killed before long and he may never have to know that his inamorata has chosen a better looking man, not a better man--they don't make them to beat little Williams."

As they approached the car, impulsive Judy jumped out and ran to meet her friend. Jo ran, too, and they embraced with such ardor that Philippe stood back amazed. Maybe Kent Brown was not to be so envied, after all.

If the girl who was to marry him in a day was so lavish with her embraces for other men, what kind of wife would she make? Of course, Williams was a rather dried up person, but then a man's a man for a'

that.

Kent, too, was rather astonished when his fiancee left him with such precipitation and before all the aviation camp hugged and kissed the strange bunchy little figure. Ardor for the heroes of France was all well enough, but a fellow's sweetheart need not be quite so warm in her manner of showing her appreciation, especially when the fellow happens not to be one himself in the habit of making daily daring flights to spy out the weakness in the trenches of the enemy.

The Marquise laughed as she had not done since the first week in August of that terrible year. Kent looked at her in astonishment. She was not so very much like his mother, after all. His mother would not have been so much amused over the discomfiture of a young lover.

That matron was saying to herself: "How stupid men are!" She had recognized Jo from the beginning. Kent had known in some far off corner of his brain that Mrs. Polly Perkins was doing something or other about the war, but his mind had been so taken up with his own affairs and Judy's possible danger that that knowledge had stayed in the corner of his brain while the more important matter of getting married was uppermost. Suddenly the truth flashed over him and he was overcome with laughter, too.

"Caught on, eh?" asked his cousin.

He nodded.

"We must keep mum," she admonished. "There is no reason why a woman should not do her part this way if she can. I'd fly in a minute if that would help any. Of course these stupid men would raise a hue and cry if they knew a woman was carrying off the honours."

"I am as quiet as the grave," declared Kent.

Judy came to the car with her friend and with the utmost audacity introduced Jo as Mr. Williams. The Marquise greeted the supposed young man graciously. Kent sprang out and shook Jo warmly by the hand, much to the astonishment of his cousin Philippe.

"Can't I see you a moment alone?" whispered Jo in Judy's ear. The Marquise, as though she divined what was in the heart of Mrs. Polly Perkins, asked her to come sit in the car; and then she suggested that Philippe show the camp to Kent and on second thought decided to go with them. The chauffeur had been sent with the hamper to the mess hall, so Judy and Jo had a few minutes alone.

"I must find out something about Polly. I feel as though I could wait no longer for news of him. Can't you help me?"

"Well, you know I am to be married to-morrow and sail for United States, but I am going to see that news is got to you somehow. Cousin Sally will do it, of course. She is the very person."

"Oh, but that Philippe must not know. He has already been very curious about where he has seen me before, and I have had to be insufferably rude to him to keep him from prying into my past. I have made good as a man, but still they would not like it, I know."

"How on earth did you ever get in? I am dying to hear all about it."

"Well, naturally the examination for physical fitness was worrying me some. I got that little dried up art student named Joel Williams, the one who was always trying to claim kin with me, to take the examination and then let me slip in in his place. I bought his ticket to America to pay him for his trouble. He was broke, as usual, and scared to death when the war started, and willing to do anything to get home. It was really very simple to manage it. I am the same type, in a way, although I hope I am not so dried up as my would-be cousin. Same initials, too, which made the entering rather more regular."

"Oh, Jo, what a girl you are!"

"Shh! Don't call me a girl even to yourself. Do you think the Marquise d'Ochte recognized me?"

"Of course she did and Kent, too! Do you think they would have left us alone if they had not thought you were safe? Kent wouldn't have left me with such a bird if he had not known who the bird was. He would be afraid I might fly away with you. Oh, Jo, I do so want to fly!"

"Well, why not?"

"Oh, could I really?"

"I think so. I have brought in information to our commander that is valuable enough for me to ask one small favor of him. Come on, let's ask!"

The two girls were across the field and knocking for admittance at the Commander's tent before the Marquise and the two young men had begun their tour of inspection.

"A favor to ask!" exclaimed the grizzled old warrior who sat poring over a map where Jo had only a few moments before added some crosses that meant much to the tactics of the French army.

"I want to take a friend up in a machine."

"A friend! I am sorry, my son, but it is hard to tell friends in this day of war. I can't let you. He might be no friend, after all, to France."

"He! It is not a man but an American girl. She is just outside your tent," and Jo raised the flap and motioned Judy to enter. Judy was introduced. The old warrior looked at her searchingly.

"Tell me, are you related to Robert Kean?"

"His daughter, sir."

"Robert Kean's daughter! Why, my child, your father and I have been close friends for years. Tell me where he is and what he is doing."

So Judy told of her father's letter and his being held in Berlin because of the knowledge he had of Turkey's topography. She made him laugh long and loud when she told of the ridiculous limericks he had written on the paper boats.

"And you, Robert Kean's daughter, want to fly, and to fly with our bravest and most daring aviator! Well, don't fly off to America with him,--and G.o.d bless you, my children," and he gave Judy a fatherly embrace and went back to his map.

When Kent got back to the car with his cousin, there was no Judy.

"Where can she have gone and where is Williams?"

Philippe looked rather mysterious. Young girls who rushed up and embraced bird men with such ardor should not be allowed too much rope.

"No doubt she will be back soon. Williams is perhaps showing her the camp. Look, there goes another machine up! Two in it! By Jove, it is Williams! I can tell by his way of starting. He has such a smooth getaway always. Could the pa.s.senger be Miss Kean?"

"More than likely," said Kent composedly. "She has always been crazy to fly. I reckon Williams will take good care of her and not go too high or try any stunts."

"Oh, certainly not!" said Philippe wonderingly. Americans were a riddle to him. He never quite understood his own mother, who had rather a casual idea of proprieties herself at times. That good lady, coming up just then, expressed no concern over the impropriety of Judy's flying with a man when she was to be married on the morrow to some one else.

Kent sat in the car with his cousin Sally and together they enjoyed Judy's flight. Jo took her as close to the fighting line as she dared, but she had no idea of endangering the life of her pa.s.senger. They dipped and curved, for the most part confining their maneuvers to the vicinity of the camp. Judy never spoke one word, but held her breath and wept for sheer joy.

"To be flying! To be flying! Oh, Judy Kean, you lucky dog!" she said to herself. "All my life I've been dreaming I could fly and now I am doing it."