and me. You will very
rarely find one woman take much interest in tales about another. But
you lean back in your own chair, laddie, and light a cigarette. And a
wonderful thing it is to see you do it, too, and better than pounding
the wall. Eh? All of which we may consider we owe to the lady who
disdains us and prefers the scenery. Well, I'm not much to look at,
goodness knows; and she can see you all the rest of the day. Now that's
a brand worth smoking. What do you call it--'Zenith'? Ah, and
'Marcovitch.' Yes; you can't better that for drawing-room and garden
purposes. It mingles with the flowers. Lean back and enjoy it, while I
smell gun-powder. For I will tell you where I first saw the Honourable
Jane. Out in South Africa, in the very thick of the Boer war. I had
volunteered for the sake of the surgery experience. She was out there,
nursing; but the real thing, mind you. None of your dabbling in
eau-de-cologne with lace handkerchiefs, and washing handsome faces when
the orderlies had washed them already; making charming conversation to
men who were getting well, but fleeing in dread from the dead or the
dying. None of that, you may be sure, and none of that allowed in her
hospital; for Miss Champion was in command there, and I can tell you
she made them scoot. She did the work of ten, and expected others to do
it too. Doctors and orderlies adored her. She was always called 'The
Honourable Jane,' most of the men sounding the H and pronouncing the
title as four syllables. Ay, and the wounded soldiers! There was many a
lad out there, far from home and friends, who, when death came, died
with a smile on his lips, and a sense of mother and home quite near,
because the Honourable Jane's arm was around him, and his dying head
rested against her womanly breast. Her voice when she talked to them?
No,--that I shall never forget. And to hear her snap at the women, and
order along the men; and then turn and speak to a sick Tommy as his
mother or his sweetheart would have wished to hear him spoken to, was a
lesson in quick-change from which I am profiting still. And that big,
loving heart must often have been racked; but she was always brave and
bright. Just once she broke down. It was over a boy whom she tried hard
to save--quite a youngster. She had held him during the operation which
was his only chance; and when it proved no good, and he lay back
against her unconscious, she quite broke down and said: 'Oh, doctor,--a
mere boy