was nothing," said he, shifting from one foot to another. "I
enjoyed it, mamselle. It was such fun to dive into the battle and pull
out the wounded. It helped them, you see, and it gave us a grand
excitement. Otherwise, had I not gone with you, I would be as ignorant
as all in Dunkirk still are, for the poor people do not yet know what
has happened at the front."

"We hardly know ourselves what has happened," said Uncle John. "We can
hear the boom of guns yet, even at this distance, and we left the battle
line flowing back and forth like the waves of the ocean. Have a cup of
tea, Maurie?"

The man hesitated.

"I do not like to disturb anyone," he said slowly, "but if one of the
young ladies is disengaged I would be grateful if she looks at my arm."

"Your arm!" exclaimed Beth, regarding him wonderingly as he stood before
her.

Maurie smiled.

"It is hardly worth mentioning, mamselle, but a bullet--"

"Take off your coat," she commanded, rising from her seat to assist him.

Maurie complied. His shirt was stained with blood. Beth drew out her
scissors and cut away the sleeve of his left arm. A bullet had passed
directly through the flesh, but without harming bone or muscle.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" she asked reproachfully.

"It amounted to so little, beside the other hurts you had to attend," he
answered. "I am shamed, mamselle, that I came to you at all. A little
water and a cloth will make it all right."

Patsy had already gone for the water and in a few minutes Beth was
deftly cleansing the wound.

"How did it happen, Maurie?" asked Jones. "I was with you most of the
time and noticed nothing wrong. Besides, you said nothing about it."

"It was on the road, just as we picked up that fallen soldier with the
hole in his back. The fight jumped toward us pretty quick, you remember,
and while I sat at the wheel the bullet came. I knew when it hit me, but
I also knew I could move my arm, so what did it matter? I told myself to
wait till we got to the ship. Had we stayed there longer, we might all
have stopped bullets--and some bullets might have stopped us." He
grinned, as if the aphorism amused him, and added: "To know when to run
is the perfection of courage."

"Does it hurt?" asked Uncle John, as Beth applied the lint and began
winding the bandage.

"It reminds me it is there, monsieur; but I will be ready for another
trip to-morrow. Thank you, mamselle. Instead of the tea, I would like a
littl