r making her toilet and before breakfast, went out
of the hut. She beheld an entirely different looking landscape from
that which she was used to about Clair.

Through the gateway of the compound she saw a rutted road, with dun
fields beyond. Behind, the ridge rose abruptly between the hospital
and the battle front.

A red-headed young Irishman in khaki stood at the gateway, or tramped
up and down with his rifle on his shoulder. He could not look at the
girl without grinning, and Ruth smiled in return.

"'Tis a broth of a mornin', Miss," he whispered, as she drew near. "Be
you the new lady Charlie Bra-a-agg brought over last night?"

"Yes. I am to take the place of the girl who--who----"

She faltered and could not go on. The Irish lad nodded and blinked
rapidly.

"Bedad!" he muttered. "We'll make the Boches pay for that when we go
over the top. Never fear."

He halted abruptly, became preternaturally grave, and presented arms.
The young surgeon, Dr. Monteith, who had met Ruth the night before,
tramped in from a morning walk.

"Good morning, Miss Fielding. Did you sleep?"

She confessed that she did. He smiled, but there was a deep crease
between his eyes.

"I am glad you are up betimes. We need some of your supplies. Can I
send the orderlies with the schedule soon?"

"Oh, yes! I will try to be ready in half an hour," she cried, turning
quickly toward the hut, of which she carried the key.

"Wait! Wait!" he called. "No such hurry as all that. You have not
breakfasted, I imagine? Well, never neglect your food. It is vital.
I shall not send to you until half-past eight."

He saluted and went on. Ruth went to the hut in which the nurses
messed. The night shift had just come in and she found them a
pleasant, if serious, lot of women. And of all nationalities by
blood--truly American!

There was an air about the nurses in the field hospital different from
those she had met in institutions farther back from the battle line.
There were serious girls there, but there was always a spatter of
irresponsibles as well.

Here the nurses were like soldiers--and soldiers in active and
dangerous service. There was a marked reserve about them and an
expression of countenance that reminded Ruth of some of the nuns she
had seen at home--a serenity that seemed to announce that they had
given over worldly thoughts and that their minds were fixed upon higher
things.

There was a hushed way of speaki