ost a limb, and men who have only the tiniest graze; men who are
mad with pain, and men who are going down for a new set of false teeth;
men with pneumonia, and men with scabies. It is only when the boat
leaves for England that the cases can be sorted out. It is only then
that there are signs of envy, and the men whose wounds are not bad
enough to take them back to "Blighty" curse because the bullet did not
go deeper, or the bit of shrapnel did not touch the bone.

* * * * *

It is a wonderful moment for the "Tommies" when they reach their
convalescent hospital in England. Less than a week ago many of them were
stamping up and down in a slushy trench wondering "why the 'ell there's
a bloomin' war on at all." Less than a week ago many of them never
thought to see England again, and now they are being driven up to the
old Elizabethan mansion that is to be their hospital.

As the ambulance draws up outside the porch, the men can see, where the
hostess used to welcome her guests of old, the matron waiting with the
medical officer to welcome them in. One by one they are brought into the
oak-panelled hall, and a nurse stoops over them to read their names,
regiments, and complaints off the little labels that are fastened to
their tunic buttons. As they await their turns, they snuff the air and
sigh happily, they talk, and wink, and smile at the great carved
ceiling, and forget all they have gone through in the joy of that
splendid moment.

Away in one of the wards a gramophone is playing "Mother Machree," and
the little nurse, who hums the tune to herself as she leans over each
man to see his label, sees a tear crawling through the grey stubble on
one's cheek. He is old and Irish, and had not hoped to hear Irish tunes
and to see fair women again. But he is ashamed of his emotion, and he
tells a little lie. "Sure, an' it's rainin' outside, nurse," he says.

And the nurse, who knows the difference between a raindrop and a
tear--for was she not standing on the step five minutes ago, admiring
the stars and the moon?--knows her part well, and plays it. "I thought I
heard the rain dripping down on the porch just now," she says, "I hope
you poor men did not get wet," and she goes on to her next patient.

* * * * *

How they love those days in hospital! How the great rough men love to be
treated like babies, to be petted and scolded, ordered about and
praised! How gr