u
all the news. Nothing much has happened, as you see.

There's a girl here; you never saw anything like her. Say, she makes
me feel sorry for you way off there!

Well, so long, boys! I'll see you soon, if we don't get torpedoed.
They don't make many plans over here. They say, "Do come and see me
to-morrow if you don't get Zeppelined." So long!

ZAIDOS.

Zaidos folded this letter with the pleased consciousness that he had
written a lot of news.

The next was for the doctor.

"Dear Doctor," he wrote, "I'm at the Hazeldens; and they are about the
nicest people in the world. Among other members of the family, Mrs.
Hazelden, who was Miss Helen, has a sister who seems a pleasant young
lady. I will soon leave for America; and except for leaving the
Hazeldens, as well as Helen's sister, who seems real pleasant, I shall
be glad to go. I do hate to hang around and do nothing. A million
people come here every day and work for the soldiers. I think the men
would appreciate it if they could know the amount of tea it takes to
keep them going here while they sew.

The money is all fixed up. I do hope you will enjoy spending it. Let
me hear from you some day, doctor. Perhaps that is asking a good deal,
but it would be fine if you could spare time.

I often think of Velo. Somehow he seems different to me now. There
were a lot of things about Velo that used to make me mad, but which now
I do not seem to remember. It is a great pity that he died. Perhaps
if he had lived, and I had taken him back to school with me, he would
have had a different life. I don't know. Anyway, somehow I think of
him a good deal, and I'm glad I do, because it must be awful to have no
one at all to think of you after you are dead.

I will write again when I get back to America, doctor. Don't forget me
and don't forget that I am going to try to be as great a surgeon as you
are.

Your friend,
ZAIDOS."

The third letter was written in modern Greek, using the familiar "thee"
and "thou" of intimate speech.

My old Nurse Maratha:

The war kept me from thee, when at last I could get away. I would have
come to Saloniki if I could but I had an errand that took me straight
to England.

Velo is dead, Maratha. He was shot in the big battle. You must have
been praying when he died, if I know thee still. And I was shot, too,
a little, and must ever walk lame. I tell thee this so no one else may
tell thee first. I am only a