oaded. He was fat, rosy, and
smiling, and we became great friends. He was at least sixty; and told me
that when War broke out, and his son enlisted, he could not bear to feel
he was out of it, and joined up to do his bit as well. He was a taxi
owner-driver in peace times, and had three of them; the one he drove
being fitted with "real silver vauses!" I heard all about the "missus,"
of whom he was very proud, and could imagine how anxiously she watched
the posts for letters from her only son and her old man.

Some months later when I was driving an ambulance a message was brought
to me that Stone was in hospital suffering from bronchitis. I went off
to visit him.

"I'm for home this time," he said sadly, "but won't the old missus be
pleased?" I looked at his smiling old face and thought indeed she would.

He asked particularly if I would drive him to the boat when he was sent
to England. "It'll seem odd to be going off on a stretcher, Miss," he
said sadly, "just like one of the boys, and not even so much as a
scratch to boast of." I pointed out that there were many men in England
half his age who had done nothing but secure cushy jobs for themselves.

"Well, Miss," he said, as I rose to leave, "it'll give me great pleasure
to drive you about London for three days when the war's over, and in my
best taxi, too, with the silver vauses!"

(N.B. I'm still looking for him.)

Life in the Convoy Camp was very different from Lamarck, and I missed
the cheery companionship of the others most awfully. At meal times only
half the drivers would be in, and for days at a time you hardly saw your
friends.

There were no "10 o'clocks" either. Of course, if you happened to be in
camp at that time you probably got a cup of tea in the cook-house, but
it's not much of a pastime with no one else to drink it with you.
"Pleasant Sunday Evenings" were also out of the question for, with all
the best intentions in the world, no one could have spent an evening in
our Mess tent (even to the accompaniment of soft music) and called it
"pleasant!" They were still carried on at Lamarck, however, and whenever
possible we went down in force.

A BLACK DAY IN THE LIFE OF A CONVOY F.A.N.Y.

(_By kind permission of Winifred Mordaunt,
From "Barrack Room Ballads
of the F.A.N.Y. Corps."_)

Gentle reader, when you've seen this,
Do not think, please, that I mean this
As a