"Why," Elizabeth asked softly, "have they all joined up?"
"Oh! Different reasons they give," answered the forewoman. "One joins because her pal joined. Lil there was tired of domestic service—I'm sure I don't blame her. Another hears what fun the life is—and it is fun, even if we do have to work hard. We couldn't work so hard if it weren't fun! Another thinks it's a shame if we can't do as much as the Frenchwomen do. Another girl just said, 'I've got six brothers serving.'"
Here a lump came into my throat as I listened. I thought of my own brothers. Jack, who went down with his ship in '15—Guy with his guns—Victor, the youngest of us all, who had just got his wings, and was off to join his air squadron in France. What sort of sister was I to those fighting boys? Unworthy! Poor in physique and grit, I'd been ready to buy myself out of the Land Army almost before I'd given it a trial.
I was still thinking of that after "Lights out," when all the girls were already asleep.
But Elizabeth, from the next mattress, heard.
She crept near in the darkness.
"Joan! What is it? Why are you crying?" she whispered. "Are you cross because I teased you about that wretched Harry?"
"No! Oh, no," I whispered back. "It's only that I—I felt ashamed of myself! There was I—ready to jack up this morning! I won't now. No, not if I never stop feeling stiff again, I shall stick it. I've just made up my mind this minute."
"You made it up before," murmured my chum, wriggling back to her mattress. "You made it up this morning when that young man said——"
"Oh, bother that interfering young man," I interrupted, "I hope I don't see him again."