.

"It's so much warmer now, Mother dearest," she pleaded. "I haven't had a
cold for ages; and we shan't be standing still--we shall be busy running
about all the time. It's only from half-past two till four. You might
come and watch."

"It's my afternoon to help at the Sewing Meeting," said Mrs. Clarke. "I
could hardly miss that while the Deaconess is away."

"Then drive over to Hurford and fetch me home. I haven't been out in the
trap for ages--yes, ages! Do, darling Motherkins! I should so enjoy it,
and--oh yes, I'll put a Shetland shawl over my mouth, if you like, and
you could bring my thick coat. Will you promise?"

"It depends on the weather, Birdie," replied her mother discreetly.

The afternoon in question turned out mild enough to allay even Mrs.
Clarke's fears. It was one of those balmy, delicious days in early
spring when the earth seems to throb with renewed life, and there is
real warmth in the sunshine. The Guild members had dinner earlier than
usual, and caught the two o'clock train to Hurford. The field that had
been engaged as their temporary camp was close to the Orphanage, and
they found all ready for them on their arrival, from the stretchers to
the row of nice little boys in uniform upon whom they were to operate.
Everything was strictly business-like. The officers and patrol leaders
at once took command, and began to instruct each group of ambulance
workers in the particular duties they were expected to perform. One
detachment started to build a fire (there is a science in the building
of fires in the open), a second ran up the Red Cross flag and arranged a
temporary hospital with supplies from the transport wagon, while a third
went out to render first aid to the wounded.

The boys entered thoroughly into the spirit of the affair. A blank
charge was fired, at which signal they all dropped down on the grass as
"injured".

Dorothy, who was told off to No. 3 Corps, flew at the sound of the guns,
and pounced upon the first prostrate form she came across.

"Are you killed or wounded?" she enquired breathlessly.

"Wounded, m'm," replied the boy, with a grin. "But you can't have me,
because another lady's got me already. She looks at me and she says:
'Not movable', and she's run to get a spade to dig a 'ole with."

"Oh! To put your hip in, I suppose?"

"Yes, m'm. They don't bury us unless we're killed."

"I should think not!" exclaimed Dorothy, as she hurried away to find a
patient who was