he main buildings.
We scouted around in the dark to find a place to deposit our stuff and
open a temporary kitchen, and, returning to the ambulance, we came
across a wounded boy who had sunk on a bench. The ambulance driver had
passed him, making his way on foot, but being full-up, she was unable to
give him a lift. He was wounded in the chest, was exhausted, and had no
great-coat. It was absolutely necessary to get him under cover and to
give him warmth and nourishment. We put our arms around him and tried to
help him along, but soon it was apparent that he had not the strength to
make the reception ward.

[Sidenote: Holding up a boy too weak to stand.]

The English girl said, "You hold him up while I get a stretcher"; so I
jammed myself up against the side of a building and put my arms about
the boy while his weight grew heavier and heavier against me. I could
not let him slip, because the roadway was narrow and a long string of
ambulances, without lights, was passing. He never uttered a sound, but
his arms moved convulsively. As he felt himself growing weaker, he put
them around my neck, and clung to me precisely as a frightened child
would. It seemed an age while I waited there, warning off ambulances
that were about to shave us too closely. I could not help wondering
where that boy's mother was, what she was doing, or if he had a mother.
And I thought some terrible thoughts about war and some wicked ones
about Germans.

[Sidenote: Dispensing food to the wounded.]

The girl came with her stretcher at last, and we got the boy on it.
Then we went about setting up our feeding station. Hungry men limped in,
bandaged mostly about the head, and _how_ they consumed hard boiled eggs
and drank hot chocolate! I left the English girl dispensing food and
drink, while I took to the badly wounded a mixture of beaten egg, hot
milk and sugar. Here and there men asked for a piece of chocolate or
bread, but most of the wounded wanted only the liquid food. They would
say with their awful English cockney accent, "Ah! that's good!" or
"Prime stuff!" or "Could you spare a little more, sister?" In spite of
dreadful wounds, they were full of pluck.

[Sidenote: Great numbers of wounded in stretchers.]

For the next two hours I gave water and egg mixture to all sorts and
conditions of men--English, French, Canadians, Moroccans, Senegalese.
The doctor asked if I knew enough to administer morphine hypodermics,
and I regretfully admitted