peaked fur cap, would stalk proudly in to purchase a trinket, possibly
for the girl of his heart. The Russians are ardent lovers, and as the
soldier was only at home on a short leave, he had to make the best of
his opportunity.

Most of the women who were not wearing furs had heavy shawls drawn over
their heads and shoulders. Nona could not see their faces very well,
and only received flitting impressions of dark eyes and large, heavy
features, with almost always the curiously pale and yet sallow skin
peculiar to the Russian peasant. It is only among the better classes
that one finds other types.

Suddenly Nona gave a cry of alarm, which she quickly hushed. To her
surprise some one had quietly come up back of her and laid a hand on
her shoulder. It was one of these same peasant women, wearing a heavy,
dark shawl.

She was trying to say something which Nona could not at once
understand. Yet it was plain enough that the woman was imploring
her to make no disturbance that would attract attention.

The next moment Nona had recognized the woman. It was old Katja, Sonya
Valesky's servant, whom she had left with Nika in her little hut.

What had brought the old woman to Petrograd? In reality Nona knew
without asking the question. It was Katja's devotion to Sonya.

The old woman was speaking a queer jumble of languages, Russian and the
few words of English she had learned while the American girl was living
in the same house.

What Nona finally learned was, that Katja was imploring her to meet her
somewhere the next day, where they could talk without being observed.

Nona knew of no place except the one that was always open to rich and
poor alike in Russia. And she had to think quickly. Yet the churches had
always been their refuge ever since the arrival of the four Red Cross
girls in Europe.

At the same moment Nona could only recall the most celebrated Russian
church in Petrograd. She must lose no time, for even Barbara must not
learn of her mission, and Barbara might turn and come back to join her
at any moment.

"In the Cathedral of St. Isaac, toward the left and in the rear of the
church at three o'clock tomorrow," Nona murmured. And Katja must have
understood, for she went away at once.

It was just as well, because at almost the same moment Barbara returned
to join Nona, her arms full of queer-shaped packages, and looking
happier than she had since their arrival in the Russian city.

CHAPTER XIII

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