Eugenia revealed an annoyed frown. She was doing her best to find good in Barbara Meade, her New England conscience assured her there must be good in everybody. But so far Barbara’s trying qualities were much more conspicuous.
“I do wish that you would not use slang, Barbara,” she urged almost plaintively. “It may be all right in the west, but really it will give English people such an unfortunate impression of us.”
Barbara flushed. Of course she must break herself of this habit; nevertheless, she would like to have mentioned that she had heard a good deal of slang since arriving in England and although unlike the American kind, equally amusing. However, as it was now time to dismount from the top of their bus, this required all her energy and intelligence.
The meeting with Dr. Louise Garrett Anderson was necessarily brief, the distinguished woman happening to have a single free hour had consented to meet the new nurses and wish them God-speed. But the visit to the hospital was also important, because the American Red Cross girls were to have tea with the other nurses who were to accompany them across the Channel the next morning.
The new hospital just back of the British trenches at Neuve Chapelle had sent a hurried call to London for more assistance and the four American girls and four British girls were to make the journey immediately.
Crossing the hall to the dining room, Barbara just had time to whisper to Mildred:
“I have a dreadful premonition that I am not going to be popular with English nurses. When you consider how ‘New England’ feels toward me, what can you expect of England?” and Barbara made a wry face behind Eugenia’s back, wishing for the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time in her life that she only looked larger and older and more important.
The meeting of the girls was not very successful. It may be that they were all shy and that they really wished to be friendly without knowing how to approach each other. But this certainly did not appear to be true. For after they were properly introduced by the superintendent of the hospital, the English girls nodded, said “how do you do?” and then sat down again and continued talking to one another, as if the Americans had vanished as soon as their names were spoken.
It was embarrassing. Barbara was angry; nevertheless, her sense of humor made her feel an inclination to giggle. Mildred Thornton seemed distressed and awkward; one could tell from her expression that she was once more feeling her old lack of social graces. She was under the impression that it must be her duty to make things more comfortable without in the least knowing how. Eugenia was simply returning a New England manner to the land whence it came, while Nona Davis was frankly puzzled by the situation.
All her life she had been taught that one’s first duty was to make a stranger feel welcome in one’s own land. The well-bred southern man or woman will straightway cease to talk of his own affairs to become interested in a newcomer’s. They wish to make the stranger happy and at home and in the center of things. But this did not seem to be true of this particular party of English girls. Nona wondered why they should be so unlike the other English people they had been meeting. Perhaps they were rude because they belonged to a class of society that knew no better. You see, Nona’s feeling for “family” was very strong. She was to learn better in the days to follow, learn that it is the man or woman who counts, and not who his grandmother or grandfather chanced to be; but the lesson was still before her.