quite nonsense.
So you see, we are all in it."

"It is perfectly amazing," said Barry. "You British women are
wonderful!"

The brown eyes opened a little wider.

"Wonderful? Why, what else could we do? But the Canadians! I think
they're wonderful, coming all this way to fight."

"I can't see that," said Barry. "That's what that old naval boy at
Devonport said, but I can't see that it's anything wonderful that we
should fight for our Empire."

"Devonport! A naval officer!" The girl lost her calm. She became
excited. "What was his name?"

"I have his card here," said Barry, taking out his pocket book and
handing her the card.

"My uncle!" she cried. "Why, how perfectly splendid!" offering Barry
her hand. "Why, we're really introduced. Then you're the man that Uncle
Howard--" She stopped abruptly, a flush on her cheek. Then she turned
to the N. C. O. "Yes, sergeant, that will do," as the man brought half a
dozen large biscuit cans and as many large bottles of prepared coffee.

As Barry's eyes fell upon the biscuit cans an idea came to him.

"Will these cans hold water?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir," replied the sergeant.

"Then, we're fixed," cried Barry, in high delight. "This is perfectly
fine."

"What do you mean?" asked the girl.

"We'll dump the biscuits, and boil the coffee in the cans. I haven't
camped on the Athabasca for nothing. Now we're all right and I suppose
we must go."

The V. A. D. hesitated a moment, then she took the sergeant to one side,
and entered into earnest and persuasive talk with him.

"It's against regulations, miss," Barry heard him say, "and besides, you
know, we're expecting a hospital train any minute, and every car will be
needed."

"Then I'll take my own car," she said. "It's all ready and has the
chains on, sergeant, I think."

"Yes, it's quite ready, but you will get me into trouble, miss."

"Then, I'll get you out again. Load those things in, while I run and
change--I'm going to drive you out to your camp," she said to Barry as
she hurried away.

The sergeant shook his head as he looked after her.

"She's a thoroughbred, sir," he said. "We jump when she asks us for
anything. She's a real blooded one; not like some, sir--like some of
them fullrigged ones. They keep 'er 'oppin'."

"Fullrigged ones?" inquired Barry.

"Them nurses, I mean, sir. They loves to 'awe them--them young
'Vaddies,' as we call them--V. A. D., you know, sir. They keeps 'em a
'oppin' proper