uiet and don't worry," said the Sister, "or you'll be too
ill to see her. Why, I declare that you're quite feverish. What have you
got to worry about?"

"You see, it's like this 'ere," confided Bill Stevens. "I ain't dared to
tell 'er as 'ow I was blind, and it ain't fair to ask 'er to marry a
bloke what's 'elpless. She only thinks I've got it slightly, and she
won't care for me any more now."

"You needn't be frightened," said the Sister. "If she's worth anything
at all, she'll love you all the more now." And she tucked him up and
told him to go to sleep.

Then, when Emily arrived, the Sister met her, and broke the news. "You
love him, don't you?" she asked, and Emily blushed, and smiled assent
through her tears.

"Then," said the Sister, "do your best to cheer him up. Don't let him
think you're distressed at his blindness," and she took the girl along
to the ward where Bill Stevens lay waiting, restless and feverish.

"Bill darling," said Emily. "It's me. How are you? Why have you got
that bandage on?" But long before poor Bill could find words to break
the news to her she stooped over him and whispered: "Bill dear, I could
almost wish you were blind, so that you'd have to depend on me, like. If
it wasn't for your own pain, I'd wish you was blind, I would really."

For a long time Bill stuttered and fumbled for words, for his joy was
too great. "I am blind, Em'ly," he murmured at last.

And the whole ward looked the other way as Emily kissed away his fears.
As for Bill Stevens, he sang and laughed and talked so much that evening
that the Matron had to come down to stop him.

For, as my legless friend remarked, "We in 'orspital is the lucky ones,
an' any bloke what ain't killed ought to be 'appy and bright like we
is."

II

A RECIPE FOR GENERALS

Everyone is always anxious to get on the right side of his General; I
have chanced upon a recipe which I believe to be infallible for anyone
who wears spurs, and who can, somehow or other, get himself in the
presence of that venerated gentleman.

I sat one day in a trench outside my dug-out, eating a stew made of
bully beef, ration biscuits, and foul water. Inside my dug-out, the
smell of buried men was not conducive to a good appetite; outside, some
horrible Hun was amusing himself by firing at the sandbag just above me,
and sending showers of earth down my neck and into my food. It is an
aggravating fact that the German always makes himself particularl