the ladies of the Automobile Service commenced coming in, wearing
their uniforms. And were they a fine-looking lot? They were! I sure did
wish I had a right to that costume; and I had a feeling that my heart
wouldn't hurt near so bad, even when thinking of Jim, once it was
beating under that snappy-looking uniform coat in Uncle Sam's
service--do you get me?

Well, about this time we were let go upstairs in one of them regular
hotel elevators, the rookies still scared, the regular members in good
standing talking among theirselves, though several spoke to me nice and
friendly; in particular, the little frowzy one which had been reading
the book the day before in the office, but wasn't at all sloppy in her
uniform.

Believe you me, I had a awful funny feeling in the middle of my stomach
going up in that elevator, and not for the same reason as the
Metropolitan Tower or any of them tall buildings, either. It was because
of not knowing what was ahead of me and preparing for the worst. After
I'd seen the kind of stuff them lady soldiers had to learn in the auto
shop, it seemed like about anything might be expected of them in a mere
hospital. So I got myself all braced up so's if I had to cut off a leg,
or extract a tooth or anything, I'd be able to go to it and not bat an
eye-lash--not outwardly, anyway.

But things is seldom as bad as you figure in advance--not even
first-night performances. And the stuff which was actually put up to us
was simple as a ordinary one-step. At least, it looked so from a
distance. By distance I mean this: When the nursing instructor--a lady
in a white dress, with the darndest-looking little soubrette cap stuck
'way on the back of her head--when she stood up in front of the lot of
us and put a Velpeau bandage--which is French for sling, I guess, and
looks it--on one of the lady soldiers who was acting as mannequin, why,
it looked easy.

While she was putting it on she handed us a line of talk something like
that bird at the auto school, only not so fluent. And when she got
through it was up to the rest of us to put the Velpeau bandages on each
other. Gawd knows it was no cinch.

First, I set down, and a girl in uniform asked could she wrap me up.
Well, it just naturally rumpled my Georgette blouse; but what's a blouse
to a patriot? I let her go to it, and she done it so good and so quick
that it was all over before I knew it, as the dentist says; and then it
was up to me. Somebody give me