In a very few moments they found themselves at the station. A moment or two longer and Kitty had taken her place in the train—no questions asked, her uniform and the badge on her arm being sufficient. She could scarcely believe in her own luck.
"Safe so far; success so far," thought the girl.
In process of time the train, with its sad load of wounded and dying, reached the great hospital at the base. Kitty got out with the others. Her excitement now knew no bounds. She did not wait to assist any of the wounded men. The nurses—there were none too many of them—came out, the orderlies did what they could, and the sick and wounded were brought one by one into the tents. The damp of the place was fearful. The flies were a torture. The red dust lay in patches everywhere. There were few comforts of any sort. How different from the Town Hall hospital, which, poor as it was, was at least the soul of order!
But Kitty noticed none of these things. She wanted Mollie. If she could save Mollie, the wounded and dying mattered nothing at all. Presently she saw her. She was in the forefront, as usual. She held a lamp in her hand. She was giving directions. Kitty ran up and touched her.
"I have come," she said, "to help you."
Mollie turned and glanced at her. She saw a light in the wild brown eyes, a smile round the lips, and she noticed a queer, new, and very foreign expression on the small face. But all she did was to clasp Kitty's hand for one instant.
"Nothing personal now," said Sister Mollie—"presently, presently."
Kitty fell back, stunned and ashamed. After a few minutes, however, Mollie showed that she had not forgotten her sister. She turned and said,—
"All hands are wanted. If you are useful, I am glad you have come. Go and help the other nurses. I will speak to you presently."
With something between a sob and a cry of joy Kitty turned and went. With the little cap and the big white apron, and the red cross on her arm, she felt herself truly a sister of the Red Cross. The thought ennobled and raised her. There was a sense of rest all over her. Her wild expedient had succeeded.