duced to a bed by a deft-handed nurse of unusual
beauty.

The Blighty hopes of our party were realised or disappointed at midday,
when the surgeon-in-charge came to decide which of the new arrivals were
to be forwarded across Channel, and which were to be patched up in
France. The world stands still the moment before the Ram Corps major,
his examination concluded, delivers the blessed verdict: "Get him off by
this afternoon's boat, sister." Or an unwelcome reassurance: "We'll soon
get you right here."

For my part I had not the least expectation of Blighty until the surgeon
showed signs of prolonged dissatisfaction with the swollen knee. Like
the doctor at Gezaincourt, he pinched, punched, and pressed it, asked
for its history, and finally pronounced: "I'm afraid it'll have to be
rested for about six weeks." Then, after a pause: "Sorry we haven't room
to keep you here for so long. You'll be fixed up on the other side."
Hastily I remarked that I should be sorry indeed to take up valuable
space at a Base hospital. The major's departure from the ward was the
signal for a demonstration by the Blighty squad. Pillows and
congratulations were thrown about, war-dances were performed on game
legs, the sister was bombarded with inquiries about the next boat.

All places on the afternoon boat having been booked, we were obliged to
wait until the morning. What a day! The last of a long period amid the
myriad ennuies of active service, the herald of a long spell amid the
pleasant things of England. Impatience for the morrow was kept bottled
with difficulty; every now and then the cork flew out, resulting in a
wild rag among those able to run, walk, or hop. When the 'Times' was
delivered, it seemed quite a minor matter that the Gazette should
notify me that I had been presented with another pip.

After dinner some one remarked that "she" would soon come on duty, and
there was an air of conscious expectancy among the veterans of the ward.
"She," the V.A.D. girl who had received us when we were deposited at the
hospital in the small hours of the morning, was--and is--an efficient
nurse, a good comrade, a beautiful woman, and the friend of every
casualty lucky enough to have been in her charge. For a wounded officer
staled by the brutalities of trench life there could be no better mental
tonic than the ministrations and charm of Our Lady of X Ward. I cannot
guess the number and variety of proposals made to her by patients of a
week'