ward
masters objected, bluntly declaring that they wouldn't endure a lot
of women interfering and fussing and writing hysterical nonsense to
the home newspapers.

For a while confusion reigned, intensified by the stupendous
mobilisation going on all around.

A medical officer came to the Farm Hospital and angrily informed
Ailsa that the staff had had enough of women in the wards; and from
forty cots forty half-dead, ghastly creatures partly rose and
cursed the medical gentleman till his ears burned crimson,

Ailsa, in her thin gray habit bearing the scarlet heart, stood in
the middle of the ward and defied him with her credentials.

"The medical staff of the army has only to lay its case before the
Secretary of War," she said, looking calmly at him, "and that is
where the Sanitary Commission obtains its authority. Meanwhile our
orders detail us here for duty."

"We'll see about that!" he snapped, backing away.

"So will we," said Ailsa, smiling. But that afternoon she and
Letty took an ambulance and went, in great distress of mind, to see
Mother Angela, Superior of the Sisters of the Holy Cross, who had
arrived from Indiana ready to continue hospital duties on the
Potomac if necessary.

The lovely Superieure, a lady of rare culture and ability, took
Ailsa's hand in hers with a sad smile.

"Men's prejudices are hard to meet. The social structure of the
world is built on them. But men's prejudices vanish when those
same men fall sick. The War Department has regularised our
position; it will authorise yours. You need not be afraid."

She smiled again reminiscently.

"When our Sisters of the Holy Cross first appeared in the wards,
the patients themselves looked at us sullenly and askance. I heard
one say: 'Why can't they take off those white-winged sun-bonnets in
the wards?' And another sneered: 'Sun-bonnets! Huh! They look
like busted white parasols!' But, Mrs. Paige, our white
'sun-bonnets' have already become to them the symbol they love
most, after the flag. Be of good courage. Your silver-gray garb
and white cuffs will mean much to our soldiers before this battle
year is ended."

That evening Ailsa and Letty drove back to the Parm Hospital in
their ambulance, old black Cassius managing his mules with
alternate bursts of abuse and of praise. First he would beat upon
his mules with a flat stick which didn't hurt, but made a loud
racket; then, satisfied, he would loll in his seat singing in