The Doctor was busy with his patients in the heat of the day, loosening one poor fellow’s bandage, and tightening another that an irritable sufferer had worked loose; while Mrs Smithers was thoroughly proving her ability at using basin and sponge over the brows of some poor, fevered fellow whose pillow-less head rolled slowly from side to side. Archie was taking the mess-room on his way to visit the chamber where Peter Pegg was stationed, and from whose window an occasional shot rang out from time to time, with the result of the gaudily robed Malay in a smart, cavalry-like cap, who had drawn the shot, being seen no more.
“How am I, Mister Archie, sir? Oh, it’s rather hot here, sir,” said Mrs Smithers; and then, in response to a second: ‘Yes, old lady, or, I should say, Madame la Duchesse’—“Now, please, sir, don’t you get calling me names too. I don’t mind from the Doctor, but it teases when it comes from a young gent like you. No, sir, I ain’t cross, only a bit worried by the flies. They are terrible, and it’s all due to its being so hot.”
“Yes, Mrs Smithers,” said Archie meaningly. “It is hot, and no mistake. But how beautiful and tidy you have got everything!”
“Well, it is a bit better, sir. I have been collecting all the mats I could find for the poor boys. Do you hear any news, sir, of reinforcements coming up?”
“Not yet, old lady.”
“I do wish they’d come, sir; and oh, Mr Archie, can’t I do anything for you?”
“Me? No! I am not wounded.”
“No, sir; but, oh dear, what a state you are in! Some clean things would be a blessing to you.”
“Oh, wait a bit. One’s got something else to think about now. Where’s the Doctor?”
“He was here just this minute, sir; and he’s sure not to be long, for I never see such a man for watching everybody who’s in hospital. There, I thought so! Here he is, with the mess water-can and a clean glass. He might have asked me to fetch some water if he wanted it. But he always will interfere with what’s in my department.”