Private Christy and his work were evidently well known.
"I am to keep the boiler filled," repeated Emmeline, as she went back to the kitchen. "I am to bring warm water and towels and cloths. I am not to cry or scream. I am not to cry or scream!"
Into the house still came the wounded, into Grandmother Willing's parlor, and into Grandmother Willing's sitting-room, and up the stairs into the bedchambers, and out to the kitchen.
"Keep the kitchen clear!" commanded Private Christy. "Keep the room above clear! Nobody in there!"
Some one answered roughly that the room above was to be filled.
Private Christy's voice did not always drawl; he raised it now so that it could be heard above the slackening crash of musketry:—
"There's a leetle gal in this house, gentlemen. That is her room above the kitchen."
"A little girl!" repeated a weary voice somewhere. "I'd like to see a little girl!"
Moving about deftly, Private Christy helped this man to lie down and that one to find a more comfortable position. He seemed like a mother getting her brood together for the night; they looked up to him like children who found in him their only hope.
"Emmyline," he said gently, when she brought him the things for which he had asked, "do you suppose you could help me?"