Part 37 (1/2)

”And what are you doing here?” asked Kenneth with a display of fraternal authority. ”There are at least three British hospitals in Antwerp, I believe. I wonder why you didn't join one of these.”

”I wonder why you didn't join the British army instead of enlisting in the Belgian one,” retorted Thelma in mock reproof.

”For one thing, we weren't old enough,” explained her brother. ”For another, we saw most of the fun before our troops landed in France.

It's been a rotten time, but it's well worth it.”

”Yes, I am glad you were able to do your bit,” agreed Thelma. ”And now I'll tell you why I'm here. My friend Yvonne Resimont and I both entered as nurses, so as to be together.”

”Yvonne Resimont here?” asked Kenneth.

”Yes--do you know her?”

”No; but I might have done, had Madame de la Barre not been so confoundedly pigheaded. But it's not too late now,” he added.

Thelma laughed.

”I'll find her,” she said.

”One moment,” exclaimed Rollo, who had hitherto held his tongue but had made good use of his eyes. ”Does Mademoiselle Resimont know about her father?”

”No; she has not heard anything of or from him for weeks. He is not dead?”

”Badly wounded, and now somewhere in England. I don't know where; but perhaps Major Planchenoit could give further particulars. And Madame Resimont?”

”She is in Holland--at Bergen-op-Zoom. The doctors ordered her to go, otherwise she would have remained here and helped with the wounded.

I'll find Yvonne.”

In less than a minute Thelma Everest returned, accompanied by her Belgian chum.

Yvonne Resimont was a girl of medium height and well-proportioned. Her features were dark and clear, her hair of a deep brown.

Notwithstanding the grimness of her surroundings she had a natural vivacity that could not fail to charm all with whom she came in contact.

”You, then, are Kenneth,” she exclaimed in good English, with a slight foreign accent. ”I know much about you from Thelma, but I did not expect to see you in the uniform of our brave Belgians.”

Kenneth coloured slightly.

”I wish to goodness the uniform were a little better fitting,” he thought; but it would not have mattered in the slightest degree.

Yvonne was a patriot to her finger-tips. Every man in the uniform of her beloved country was to her a hero. The uniform, ill-fitting or otherwise, was in her eyes an emblem of right against might.

”Tell me, Kenneth,” she continued, using his Christian name quite as a matter of course. It was excusable, since Thelma had never spoken of her brother by any other name, and Kenneth had not the faintest objection. ”Tell me, how came you to be fighting with us in Belgian uniform?”

”Time, old man,” announced Rollo, for during the animated conversation the minutes fled with astonis.h.i.+ng rapidity. ”It's nearly three o'clock.”

”You'll both come to see us again whenever you have the chance, won't you?” asked Thelma, as the two chums bade the girls farewell. ”For the next ten days we are on night duty, so you can call at any hour between eight and eight.”

”And if we are asleep,” added Yvonne, ”tell them to awaken us. I will not be cross at being disturbed, and I do not think Thelma will be.”