a nice new roll of bandage and told me to
get a model.

Well, I didn't have the nerve to ask any one, me being so new and the
name Marie La Tour not meaning anything to nobody here. And so here was
me standing round like a fool, not knowing how to commence, when up
comes that lady--her which had been so sloppy reading a book in the
office.

"Can't I be your model?" she offered, and--believe you me--I could of
almost cried, I was so glad to have somebody take notice of me.

I liked that dame more each time I seen her; she sure was refined. Even
her sloppiness was refined--do you get me?

Well, as to real work, that sheaf of yellow papers up to the auto school
had nothing on the bandaging game when it come to understanding it
properly. Believe you me, that bandage had a will of its own, and the
only way to make it mind would of been to step on it and kill it. But
after a little I managed to tie up the lady pretty good, and before I
was done I had my mind made up that Musette had lost her regular job and
was going to be a bandage mannequin from that P. M. on until I got the
hang of the thing.

Well, when the scramble of putting on the bandage was over and past, we
was told that after we got on to the theory we'd be sent down to the
Charity Ward for two solid weeks and practice what we'd learned.

Well, I thought, if I ever get there Gawd help the charity patients! I
guess the two weeks won't qualify me for the Auto Service. More likely
I'll be ready for the Battalion of Death, or whatever they call them
Russian women!

Well, when the bandages was all gathered up we was dismissed, as they
call it, and told to report for drill in a certain place in the park, it
being a fine day.

I must say I didn't think a whole lot of the hospital end of the game,
because it wasn't pleasant. Of course I had no intention to quit in any
way, but it sort of depressed me, what with all that sickness going on
round me and the talk about wounds and bandages. And so my mind wasn't
took off Jim, like it was by the auto work, me having a heart which
needed a little bandaging--only that can't be done, of course.

IV

WELL, on the way home I cried some more. And well I might. For when I
got there had Jim phoned? He had not! Nobody but Goldringer, the
manager, and Roscoe, the publicity man, and a few unimportant nuts like
that, and some of the newspapers. Ma had stalled them off pretty good by
saying it was impossible to disturb me.