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Came a day when the last straw slit upon "Godlen Eyes'" ability to be a "slacker!" The fine taste of first service, after she and "Uncle Sam" began to sell Liberty bonds, with soft voice and hoarse one, still lingered. So for a little while she slept late no more, knitted, gave up her ear to war-workers, and knew the fine zest of labor for her country.
But even so, "Uncle Sam's" eyes sometimes fastened on hers and asked, "What we stayin' here for, Bill's Lady-Love! YOU can work here—a little—but what can I do?" And then, as I said to you, came a day when the last straw alighted on the stay-at-homeness of "Golden-Eyes." Bill's very name was calling to her aloud as the knitted socks for him in the sunny garden and listened to the boresome speech of a persistent admirer.
"Uncle Sam" sallied around the corner of a flower pot, took one long stare and launched himself through the Spring air, just at the terrible minute that the man with the bristling blond hair tried to take her in his arms. And over his heart, under his thrown back coat, through the white mane of "Uncle Sam," who was howling at this throat, an Iron Cross shone out!
While Golden Eyes called the Department of Justice on the telephone and "Uncle Sam" camped on the prostrate German spy's chest she said gaily to the brown eyes rolling up to her: "TOMORROW, "Uncle Same," we go abroad—to Bill!"
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