"Be you afeard of the firing, miss?" asked Lawson.
"Yes," she answered, with a shudder; "but please don't tell any one."
"I won't, miss; but you ain't no cause to be frightened while you are here. 'Tain't likely they'll send a shell right over the orspital. They know the orspital by the Red Cross flag. No one would be mean enough for that."
"I think they are mean enough for anything," replied Kitty.
"Not so mean as that," answered Lawson, and he shook his head as one who knew.
The firing went on, and presently Kitty, in her alarm, found herself clasping the hand of Private Lawson. He held her little hand tightly in his. He was fond of saying during the next day that the feel of that little warm hand had supported him during the extreme of his pain; for his ankle became dreadfully inflamed, and the agony was intense. After that interview he took a great interest in Kitty. She was the pretty little lady, who was no nurse, bless her, but who was so very human, so very like what he pictured his own girl in his dreams to be. Only his own girl would not have been afraid of the shells, and would have turned to, there and then, to do a lot of laundry work for the sick soldiers. There was no one in the world less like Kitty than this girl, who was brusque, and determined, and strong in character, and faithful and unselfish to her backbone. But Kitty had her uses that day in the hospital, all the same. She supported Jim Lawson through his darkest hour, and just because she was nervous and frightened, for her sake he must keep brave and calm; and God only knew what a hero the little girl made of him for the time being.
CHAPTER XX.
PRIVATE LAWSON.
