I had to explain that the wicked fairies leaping so realistically from
Pandora's box weren't real at all, but I'm sure I did not convince the
smaller one, who was far too shy and excited to utter a word beyond a
startled whisper: "Yes, Miss," or "No, Miss." There were wails in the
audience when the witch appeared, and several small boys near us doubled
under their seats in terror, like little rabbits going to earth,
refusing to come out again, poor little pets!

In the interval the two children watched the orchestra with wide-eyed
interest. "I guess that guy wot's wyving 'is arms abaht like that
(indicating the conductor) must be getting pretty tired," said the elder
to me. I felt he would have been gratified to know there was someone who
sympathised!

Altogether it was a most entertaining afternoon, and when we came out in
the dark and rain the eldest again slipped off to get a taxi, dodging
cabs and horses with the dexterity of an acrobat.

Christmas came round, and there was tremendous competition between the
different wards, which vied with each other over the most original
decorations.

At midday I was asked into the W.A.A.C.'s ward, where we had roast beef
and plum pudding. The two women doctors who ran the hospital visited
every ward and drank a toast after lunch. I don't know what they toasted
in the men's wards, but in the W.A.A.C.'s it was roughly, "To the women
of England, and the W.A.A.C.s who would win the war, etc." It seemed too
bad to leave out the men who were in the trenches, so I drank one
privately to them on my own.

As I sat in my little ward that night I thought of the happy times we
had had last Christmas in the convoy, only a short year before.

CHAPTER XVIII

ROEHAMPTON: "BOB" THE GREY, AND THE ARMISTICE

After Christmas it was thought I was well enough to be fitted with an
artificial limb, and in due course I applied to the limbless hospital at
Roehampton. The reply came back in a few days.

"DEAR SIR, (I groaned),

"You must apply to so-and-so and we will then be able to
give you a bed in a fortnight's time, etc.

_Signed_: "SISTER D."

My heart sank. I was up against the old question again, and in
desperation I wrote back:

"DEAR MADAM,

"My trouble is that I am a girl, etc."

and poured forth all my woes on the subject. Sister D., who proved to be
an absolute topper, was considerably amused and wrote back most
sympathetically.