“The last plane that came out from Australia,” explained Mabel, “brought some packages from the Red Cross for us to give the native helpers. We opened one just to see what they contained. Boy, will those Fuzzies be thrilled!”
“What’s in them?”
“Each one had a loin cloth and a new girdle, a string of beads, a bracelet, an ornamental hair pin and a package of cigarettes.” Mabel laughed. “I still can’t get used to those men wearing fancy hair pins.”
“I’m sure they’re meant more for service than ornamentation,” replied Nancy. “Yesterday a couple of Fuzzies came in with a litter. As soon as we had the wounded man on the bed they sat down on the ground nearby and began scratching their woolly heads with those pins.”
“When they start that I always give them a wide berth. I don’t relish the idea of any of the inhabitants of those bushy mops jumping on me.” Mabel scratched her head at the very idea, then added, “But it will be fun watching the dance and seeing them get the packages.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to miss it,” said Nancy ruefully, as she yawned and stretched on the cot.
Mabel pulled the mosquito net aside and wheedled, “Ah, come on, lazy bones!”
She caught Nancy’s hand to pull her off the cot, then stopped suddenly. “Your hand’s hot as fire!” she exclaimed. “Nancy, you’re sick.”
“Not so loud. Somebody will hear. I’m afraid I have malaria. I’ve already started taking quinine. Think I had a chill on the ward just now.”
“And you stuck it out—you numskull?”