Kitty was praised by Mollie that night for her endurance during the trying day. Kitty replied with what affection she could, and Mollie said she would come and see her that evening if possible; and tired, excited, but on the whole happier than she had been the day before, the little girl went back to her rooms at the hotel. She slept well, and early the next day returned to the hospital.
The first person she saw there was Gavon Keith. He smiled when he saw her. He was seated on a stool near one of the entrances; his leg was stretched out, and Mollie was bathing it with Condy and water.
"So you are wounded!" said Kitty, white as a sheet. "Is it dangerous?"
"Dangerous," said the young man, smiling, "when I can sit up! My dear Kit, what are you made of? It is a mere scratch,—isn't it, Nurse Mollie?"
"Nothing more," she answered; "but you ought to keep the leg up until to-morrow at any rate."
"I cannot do that; we are safe to have another skirmish with the Boers in the course of the day. They are getting desperate. I am glad they are moving. Anything is better than the terrible quiet of the last few weeks. If we can only induce them to come out of their shelter and fight us in the open, I believe we could force them to retreat. There is that in every mother's son of us which can't be beaten; that's my belief."
Keith smiled as he spoke, and his dark eyes looked away from Kitty across the long ward. Every mother's son of the men looked back at him. Were they not giving up their very lives? On every face was that indomitable look which the British soldier will wear in his time of need—the look which says to the foe, "Come on; I am waiting for you. I am ready; I am not going to cave in. Come on; do your worst." And Keith, whose spirit was boiling within him, forgot Kitty at that supreme moment. But though he forgot Kitty, he did not forget the soothing, very soothing touch of Mollie's light fingers as she bathed the ugly scratch on his leg. She bathed and bathed, and Keith lay back contented. He was very tired and very dusty; and it was delicious to have his wound attended to, and by her. As to Kitty, she was, of course, his betrothed wife; but—he could not help it—she was not in touch with him at that moment.
As to Kitty herself, the curious mingling of emotions which filled her little frame made her almost incapable of speech. Mollie certainly made the very sweetest nurse. She was never untidy; she never looked flushed, or hurried, or discomposed. Her face was as calm when she was breathing comfort to the last moments of a dying soldier as it was at this instant when she was making a brave young officer more comfortable. Nothing ever seemed to disturb Mollie's calm. Kitty sat and watched her. Just at that instant Major Strause strolled through the ward; he was going into the enteric ward. He had leisure, and meant to spend a good morning helping brave Mollie in her work. As he passed through, his eyes lighted on the little group. First at Keith he looked, then with a lingering gaze of awakening passion at Mollie, then with an expression of great meaning at Kitty. Kitty could not bear to feel that there was an understanding between herself and the major. She turned away, but nevertheless his glance had done its poisoned work.
"I wish," she said, trembling a little—"I wish, Mollie—"
"Yes?" said Mollie, looking up. She had just changed the Condy and water for a fresh supply, and the warm, comforting application was causing Keith delicious ease.