• 48 •

“ ‘SUNDRY PERSONS HAVE come to the United States during the past year and a half with large foreign credits, by the help of which, it is alleged, fires have been started, factories have been blown up and men and instrumentalities have been subsidized. These credits, when in national banks, can be followed as they are paid out by the accounting and financial detectives in the service of the Government.’ ”

Norma read the story aloud with great theatricality, then passed it with a flourish to Constance, who was, at that moment, standing on an overturned fruit crate in her petticoats as Fleurette repaired a split seam in her skirt.

“An accounting detective? That’s dull work,” Fleurette said from behind a mouthful of pins.

“At least the pay’s sufficient,” Constance said, having turned the newspaper over to finish the story. “It says here that the salaries for investigators begin at three dollars a day, with money for expenses. Experienced men of the highest class receive twelve dollars a day.”

“Which means they will offer you a dollar a day, and their thanks,” Norma said.

Beulah chortled at that. She was lounging quite comfortably on Fleurette’s cot, enjoying the sensation of a nose liberated from its bandages. It was turning gaudy shades of purple and green and was still quite tender, but the fresh air was doing it wonders.

“I know all about a dollar a day and their thanks,” Beulah said. “Don’t settle for anything less than five dollars a day, even in service to your country.”

Fleurette knotted her thread and ripped it deftly: she never bothered with scissors. “Step into it,” she said, holding the skirt up to Constance.

Constance did as she was told. Fleurette buttoned the skirt around her waist and walked around, checking the seams. “Do you have enough room to perform your maneuvers? Let’s see you kick something.”

Constance kicked her leg out half-heartedly, but she was still engrossed in the newspaper. “Listen to this. ‘Mr. Bielaski’s business is considerably more difficult than that of the ordinary policeman, inasmuch as the former must ferret out the criminal intentions of would-be violators of law and checkmate them before they can accomplish their purposes. A good example of this sort of work was his exploit in arresting a group of Germans in New York City who planned to blow up the Welland canal. Mr. Bielaski knew all about their plans but he waited until the last possible moment in order to obtain all evidence. Then he made his arrests and the canal today is safe.’ ”

Fleurette found a loose button and pulled the skirt off. “You’ve been awfully rough on this uniform. I’m going to do all of these again.”

“There’s hardly any point. We have only a few days left,” Constance said.

“I might as well fix it up. You’re going to go right on wearing this uniform when we get home, I know you will.”

“I do like a uniform,” Constance admitted. It dampened her spirits to hear mention of returning home. Was she really about to be back on the farm, in her old clothes, sleeping in her old bed again? It seemed impossible, with the war under way. Even congressmen were offering to resign their posts to go into the Army and Navy. It was stifling to think of shuffling back to Wyckoff.

But there was Fleurette, down on the floor, her knees tucked under her, whipping a needle through a wooden button. It occurred to Constance that in every home across the country, siblings were looking at one another and wondering where the war might take them, and when they might again be together.

“Roxanna’s made her plans for after camp is over, but she won’t tell us about them,” Constance said. (Beulah had by then come clean to Fleurette — it was impossible to keep a secret from her — but they’d agreed to stick to the habit of calling her by her assumed name so they wouldn’t slip up in front of the others.) “We don’t yet know what to do with Fleurette.”

Fleurette gave her a sharp glance from her spot on the floor. “Someone has to mind the farm. You’ll find some sort of position with Miss Miner, and Norma will be off at an Army pigeon depot,” she said as she tied off the last button and shook out the skirt. No one quite trusted the notion that the Army was prepared to welcome Norma into its ranks, but they were all pretending, for the sake of peace within the tent, that she would depart for her military assignment immediately upon graduation.

“Leaving you to mind the farm? You’re not going to stay out in the countryside by yourself, are you?” Beulah said. “Aren’t there wolves, and snow?”

“There’s one but not the other,” Norma put in. “Fleurette should go to Francis’s.”

“Oh, is that it?” Fleurette said. “You and Constance intend to find military posts, and I’ll help Bessie on washing day?”

“Who are Francis and Bessie?” asked Beulah, who never did manage to learn much about the Kopp sisters’ past.

“Our brother and his wife. They’re always trying to take us in,” Fleurette said. “He wants the farm sold and the three of us tucked under his roof, or some roof nearby where he has more of a say.”

Fleurette wrapped the skirt around Constance’s waist again, tested the buttons, and found them satisfactory. “I’ll make uniforms, of course. We’re so near the woolen mills, I expect they’ll set up shops and I’ll work in one of them.”

There was an odd, uncomfortable silence around the tent. Beulah looked quizzically at Constance, who tried to catch Norma’s eye but was unable to do so.

“Well?” asked Fleurette. “Isn’t that what you had in mind for me?”

It was — Constance had to admit that it was — but she knew perfectly well that Fleurette had no intention of sitting out the war behind a sewing machine.