Part 20 (2/2)

I ran back to tell him so quickly--but one can't run back into the past

It is wonderful to talk tolove The Utopian dreams of sixteen seem almost to be realized!

When I sew splints they come and talk to me Scutts will sometimes talk for an hour At first I was so proud that I dared hardly stir a finger for fear that I should frighten him away; now I aer juh my every word must carry some command When I sew splints and listen to Scutts or the old Scotch grocer or Monk--that squinting child of whoirl is!”--I think, ”We cannot all be efficient, butthis serves so that I am not efficient At first it hurt o into a ward primarily to help the patients or to help the Sister? It is not always the sa, but one must not question discipline

To-day nine of the patients ”went convalescent” They departed, hobbling and on stretchers, at two o'clock, with bursts of song, plastered hair, bright buttons, and not a regret ”You'll be able to hear a pin fall to-night, nurse,” said one of them

”I knoe shall And a tear too,” I added

But they won't listen to any such nonsense They are going off to the little convalescent hospitals, they are going away to be treated like , ”Perhaps we shall see you back again”

”No !” was the last cry I heard fro--especially the City ruet heat-bu splints will be er I shall see crooked

To-day they had soood-bye to the Nine

Happiness is cheap Last night at dinner a ne, ”It makes me sad to think how much happiness there is in a bottle”

The attack has begun

”At 315 thison a front of two miles”

So that is why the ward is so e out of the yard all day We shall get that convoy for which I longed

When the ward is empty and there is, as now, so little work to do, hoe, the women, watch each other over the heads of the men! And because we do not care to watch, nor are much satisfied e see, ant et it

Scutts and Monk talk to me while I sew, but what about the Monks, Scutts, Gayners, whose wounds will never need a dressing or a tube--who lie along a front of two miles, one on his face, another on his back?

Since 315 this o on realizing death

But one need not think of it This is a ward; here are lucky ones Even when I look at Rees, even when I look at the grocer, even when I look at the TB ward, I know that anything, _anything_ is better than death

But I have known a man here and there who did not think so--and these ers in the ward

For one can be close on death and remain familiar, friendly, comprehensible

I used to think, ”It is awful to die” But who knohat co_

A new VAD caht from home, who has never been in a hospital before