A Patriotic Schoolgirl Part 11

Directly after breakfast Mona went to Miss Jones, and on the plea that her bed was so near the window that she constantly took cold and suffered from toothache, begged leave to exchange quarters with Ailsa Donald, who had a liking for draughts, and was willing to move out of No. 2 into No. 5. Miss Jones was accommodating enough to grant permission, and the two girls transferred their belongings without delay.

"I wouldn't sleep another night in that dormitory for anything you could offer me," confided Mona to her particular chum Kathleen Drummond. "I simply can't tell you what I suffered. I'm very sensitive about mice. I get it from my mother--neither of us can bear them."

"You might have set a trap," suggested Kathleen.

"But think of hearing it go off and catch the mouse! No, I never could feel happy in No. 5 again. Miss Jones is an absolute darling to let me change."

Dona's share in the matter was not suspected by anybody. Her plot had succeeded admirably. Her only anxiety was what to do with the mice, for she could not keep them as permanent tenants of her wardrobe. The risk of discovery was great. Fortunately she managed to secure the good offices of a friendly housemaid, who carried away the cage, and promised to present the mice to her young brother when she went for her night out to Whitecliffe. To n.o.body but Ailsa did Dona confide the trick she had played, and Ailsa, being of Scottish birth, could keep a secret.

CHAPTER X

The Red Cross Hospital

There was just one more exeat for Marjorie and Dona before the holidays.

Christmas was near now, and they were looking forward immensely to returning home. They had, on the whole, enjoyed the term, but the time had seemed long, and to Dona especially the last weeks dragged interminably.

"I'm counting every day, and crossing it off in my calendar," she said to Marjorie, as the two stepped along towards The Tamarisks. "I'm getting so fearfully excited. Just think of seeing Mother and Peter and Cyril and Joan again! And there's always the hope that Daddy might get leave and come home. Oh, it would be splendiferous if he did! I suppose there's no chance for any of the boys?"

"They didn't seem to think it likely," returned Marjorie. "Bevis certainly said he'd have no leave till the spring, and Leonard doesn't expect his either. Larry may have a few days, but you know he said we mustn't count upon it."

"Oh dear, I suppose not! I should have liked Larry to be home for Christmas. I wish they'd send him to the camp near Whitecliffe. He promised he'd come and take me out, and give me tea at a cafe. It would be such fun. I want to go to that new cafe that's just been opened in King Street, it looks so nice."

"Perhaps we can coax Elaine to take us there this afternoon," suggested Marjorie.

But when the girls reached The Tamarisks, their cousin had quite a different plan for their entertainment.

"We're going to the Red Cross Hospital," she announced. "I've always promised to show you over, only it was never convenient before. To-day's a great day. The men are to have their Christmas tree."

"Before Christmas!" exclaimed Dona.

"Why, yes, it doesn't much matter. The reason is that some very grand people can come over to-day to be present, so of course our commandant seized the opportunity. It's Lord and Lady Greystones, and Admiral Webster. There'll be speeches, you know, and all that kind of thing.

It'll please the Tommies. Oh, here's Grace! she's going with me. She's one of our V.A.D.'s. Grace, may I introduce my two cousins, Marjorie and Dona Anderson? This is Miss Chalmers."

Both Elaine and her friend were dressed in their neat V.A.D. uniforms.

Marjorie scanned them with admiring and envious eyes as the four girls set off together for the hospital.

"I'd just love to be a V.A.D.," she sighed. "Oh, I wish I were old enough to leave school! It must be a ripping life."

Grace Chalmers laughed.

"One doesn't always think so early in the morning. Sometimes I'd give everything in the world not to have to get up and turn out."

"So would I," agreed Elaine.

"What exactly has a V.A.D. to do?" asked Marjorie. "Do tell me."

"Well, it depends entirely on the hospital, and what she has undertaken.

If she has signed under Government, then she's a full-time nurse, and is sent to one of the big hospitals. Elaine and I are only half-timers. We go in the mornings, from eight till one, and do odd jobs. I took night duty during the summer while some of the staff had their holidays."

"Wasn't it hard to keep awake?"

"Not in the least. Don't imagine for a moment that night duty consists in sitting in a ward and trying not to go to sleep. I was busy all the time. I had to get the trays ready for breakfast, and cut the bread and b.u.t.ter. Have you ever cut bread and b.u.t.ter for fifty hungry people?"

"I've helped to get ready for a Sunday-school tea-party," said Marjorie.

"Well, this is like a tea-party every day. One night I had to clean fifty herrings. They were sent as a present in a little barrel, and the Commandant said the men should have them for breakfast. They hadn't been cleaned, so Violet Linwood and I set to work upon them. It was a most horrible job. My hands smelt of fish for days afterwards. I didn't mind, though, as it was for the Tommies. They enjoyed their fried herrings immensely. What else did I have to do in the night? When the breakfast trays were ready, I used to disinfect my hands and sterilize the scissors, and then make swabs for next day's dressings. Some of the men don't sleep well, and I often had to look after them, and do things for them. Then early in the morning we woke our patients and washed them, and gave them their breakfasts, and made their beds and tidied their lockers, and by that time the day-shift had arrived, and we went off duty."

"Tell her how you paddled," chuckled Elaine.

"Shall I? Isn't it rather naughty?"

"Oh, please!" implored Marjorie and Dona, who were both deeply interested.

"Well, you see, there's generally rather a slack time between four and half-past, and one morning it was quite light and most deliciously warm, and Sister was on duty in the ward, and Violet and I were only waiting about downstairs, so we stole out and rushed down to the beach and paddled. It was gorgeous; the sea looked so lovely in that early morning light, and it was so cool and refreshing to go in the water; and of course there wasn't a soul about--we had the beach all to ourselves. We were back again long before Sister wanted us."

"What do you do in the day-shifts?" asked Marjorie.

"I'm in the kitchen mostly, helping to prepare dinner. I peel potatoes and cut up carrots and stir the milk puddings. Elaine is on ward duty now. She'll tell you what she does."

"Help to take temperatures and chart them," said Elaine. "Then there are instruments to sterilize and lotions to mix. And somebody has to get the day's orders from the dispensary and operating-theatre and sterilizing-ward. If you forget anything there's a row! Dressings are going on practically all the morning. Sometimes there are operations, and we have to clean up afterwards. I like being on ward duty better than kitchen. It's far more interesting."

"It's a business when there's a new convoy in," remarked Grace.

"Rather!" agreed Elaine. "The ambulances arrive, and life's unbearable till all the men are settled. They have to be entered in the books, with every detail, down to their diets. They're so glad when they get to their quarters, poor fellows! The journey's an awful trial to some of them. Here we are! Now you'll be able to see everything for yourselves."

The Red Cross Hospital was a large fine house in a breezy situation on the cliffs. It had been lent for the purpose by its owner since the beginning of the war, and had been adapted with very little alteration.

Dining-room, drawing-room, and billiard-rooms had been turned into wards, the library was an office, and the best bedroom an operating-theatre. A wooden hut had been erected in the garden as a recreation-room for convalescents. In summer-time the grounds were full of deck-chairs, where the men could sit and enjoy the beautiful view over the sea.

To-day everybody was collected in Queen Mary Ward. About sixteen patients were in bed, others had been brought in wheeled chairs, and a large number, who were fairly convalescent, sat on benches. The room looked very bright and cheerful. There were pots of ferns and flowers on the tables, and the walls had been decorated for the occasion with flags and evergreens and patriotic mottoes. In a large tub in the centre stood the Christmas tree, ornamented with coloured gla.s.s b.a.l.l.s and tiny flags.

Some of the parcels, tied up with scarlet ribbons, were hanging from the branches, but the greater number were piled underneath.

Marjorie looked round with tremendous interest. She had never before been inside a hospital of any kind, and a military one particularly appealed to her. Each of the patients had fought at the front, and had been wounded for his King and his Country. England owed them a debt of grat.i.tude, and nothing that could be done seemed too much to repay it.

Her thoughts flew to Bevis, Leonard, and Larry. Would they ever be brought to a place like this and nursed by strangers?

"You'd like to go round and see some of the Tommies, wouldn't you?"

asked Elaine.

Marjorie agreed with enthusiasm, and Dona less cordially. The latter--silly little goose!--was always scared at the idea of wounds and hospitals, and she was feeling somewhat sick and faint at the sight of so many invalids, though she did not dare to confess such foolishness for fear of being laughed at. She allowed Marjorie to go first, and followed with rather white cheeks. She was so accustomed to play second fiddle that n.o.body noticed.

The patients were looking very cheerful, and smiled broadly on their visitors. They were evidently accustomed to being shown off by their nurses. Some were shy and would say nothing but "Yes", "No", or "Thank you"; and others were conversational. Elaine introduced them like a proud little mother.

"This is Peters; he keeps us all alive in this ward. He's lost his right leg, but he's going on very well, and takes it sporting, don't you, Peters?"

"Rather, Nurse," replied Peters, a freckled, sandy-haired young fellow of about twenty-five. "Only I wish it had been the other leg. You see,"

he explained to the visitors, "my right leg was fractured at the beginning of the war, and I was eighteen months in hospital with it at Harpenden, and they were very proud of making me walk again. Then, soon after I got back to the front, it was blown off, and I felt they'd wasted their time over it at Harpenden!"