ears between us, Barbara," I said
pensively.

Barbara regarded me closely with large round eyes.

"About ten, I fink. I'm seven, you know."

"How nice of you to say that, Barbara. Then I'm only seventeen."

Barbara regarded me still more closely.

"A little more, p'waps--ten monfs."

"Thank you, Barbara. I'll remind you of that some day." After all, ten
years is no obstacle to the course of true love. "But what is the matter
with the doll?" Despite a rosy flush the doll has a field-dressing round
her auburn locks, and one leg is immensely stout owing to a tourniquet.

Barbara looked at me rather less favourably than before. It was evident
that she now thought poorly of my intelligence, and that I had made a
_faux pas_.

"I'm a nurse," Barbara explained, loftily, showing an armlet bearing the
ensign of the Red Cross. I was about to remind her of 1 & 2 Geo. V. cap.
20, which threatens the penalties of a misdemeanour against all who wear
the Red Cross without the authority of Army Council, but I thought
better of it. Instead of anything so foolish, I exhibit a delicate
solicitude about the health of the patient. I put myself right by
referring to it as "he." A less intelligent observer might pronounce it
to be decidedly of the female sex. Still, I reflected, women have
enlisted in the Army before now. I proceeded to inspect the injured limb
with professional gravity. "A compound fracture, I think, Barbara. He
will require careful nursing."

Barbara liked this--no one in the matron's room had ever exhibited such
a clinical interest in the case before, and she thinks "fwacture" rather
imposing.

"Let me feel his pulse," I said. I held a waxen arm between my thumb and
forefinger, and looked at my wrist-watch for some seconds, Barbara
gazing at me intently.

"Hum! hum! I think we had better take his temperature," I said, as I
held a clinical thermometer in the shape of a fountain-pen to the
rosebud lips of the patient. "103, I think."

"Will you wite a pwescwiption?" asked Barbara anxiously.

"Certainly, an admirable suggestion, Barbara. Let me see, will this do,
do you think?" I scribbled on my Field Note-book, tore out the page, and
handed it to Barbara.

Brom. Potass. 3 grs.
Hydrochl. 5 quarts.
Quin. Sulph. 1 pt.

She scrutinised it closely. It puzzled her, though her bewilderment was
nothing to the astonishment which that prescription would have e