"See here," she exclaimed.
"Wheel marks," said Hilda.
"Motor-car tracks," corrected Mrs. Bracher.
The soggy turf that led from the road into the door-yard of the farm-house was deeply and freshly indented.
"Perhaps some one's here now," suggested Hilda.
"Never fear," answered the nurse. "It's night work."
"Up to two weeks ago," she went on, "this farm was shot at, every day, from over the Yser. Since then, it hasn't been shelled at all."
"What of it?" asked Hilda.
"We'll see," said Mrs. Bracher. "It always pays to get up early, doesn't it, my dear?"