“No doubt you did, Mrs. Seacole.”
“Very kind they were, I assure you; they all shook me by the hand enough to last me for life. What do you think of the Russian general, Monsieur Soyer?” Before I could reply, she said, “He is a fine man, and no mistake; is he not, my son?”
She was in the act of dressing the wound of an Army Works Corps man, who had been thrown, and was cut severely in the forehead.
“What’s the matter with the poor fellow?” said I.
“He is getting better now. What will you take to drink, Monsieur Soyer?”
“Nothing at present; it is too early, my dear madam.”
“Don’t forget, before you go, to come and take a parting glass with an old friend. Mr. Day and myself will be very glad to see you, depend upon it. By the way, how is Miss Nightingale?”
“I thank you, she was quite well the last time I had the pleasure of seeing her. I have to meet her at the Land Transport Hospital this morning, by appointment.”
“What nice kitchens those are of yours at the Land Transport Hospital! I saw them several times; and the doctors and Mrs. Stuart are highly pleased with them, I assure you. How nice and clean the Sisters of Charity keep everything! You may say that of both hospitals.” Mrs. Seacole then said, “What nice things they prepare in the extra-diet kitchens for the patients! I tasted everything.—Pray give my respects to Miss Nightingale, and say, if I were not so busy I should run as far as the hospital, to pay my duty to her. You must know, Monsieur Soyer, that Miss Nightingale is very fond of me. When I passed through Scutari, she very kindly gave me board and lodging.”
This was about the twentieth time the old lady had told me the same tale. Shaking her by the hand—