"Surely," said Hilda.
The old woman was heavier than a soldier, heavier and more helpless.
"The car is full," said Hilda; "you have more wounded?"
The officer smiled.
"Of course," he answered; "here come a few of them, now."
The girl counted them. She had to leave twelve men at that farthest trench, because the car was full. On the trip back, she jumped down at the Hoogar dressing-station, and there she found sixteen more men strewed around in the straw, waiting to be removed. Twenty-eight men she had to ride away from.
For the first time in that long day, they went past the Convent-hospital, and on into the city of Ypres itself, down through the Grand Place, and then abruptly through a narrow street to the south. Here they found Military Hospital Number Three. The wounded men were lifted down and into the courtyard. Lastly, the woman.
"Yes, we'll take her," said the good-hearted Tommies, who lent a hand in unloading the car. But their officer was firm.
"We have no room," he said; "we must keep this hospital for the soldiers. I wish I could help you."
"But what am I to do with her?" asked Hilda in dismay.