"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 glass balls 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 gratitude, 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 nobody noticed.