and if I chanced to go into the kitchen he always bolted like a rabbit
into the scullery. The really terrible thing was that sometimes I had
to go on to the scullery myself, and run him to earth among the
saucepans, when he would positively shake with terror. I used to
wonder how he ever summoned up courage to speak to Susan, let alone to
face the foe when he went to France!"

"That's the sort that gets the V.C. without thinking about it," said
Major Hunt, laughing.

"I was very busy in the Canteen one morning--it was a cold, wet day,
and the men rushed us for hot drinks whenever they had a moment.
Presently a warrior dashed up to the counter, banged down his penny
and said 'Coffee!' in a voice of thunder. I looked up and caught his
eye as I was turning to run for the coffee--and it was my
lance-corporal!"

"What did you do?"

"We just gibbered at each other across the counter for a moment, I
believe--and I never saw a face so horror-stricken! Then he turned
and fled, leaving his penny behind him. Poor boy--I gave it to Susan
to return to him."

"Didn't you ever make friends with any of them, Mrs. Hunt?" Norah
asked.

"Oh yes! when we had time, or when they had. But often one was on the
rush for every minute of our four-hour shifts."

"Jolly good of you," said Jim.

"Good gracious, no! It was a very poor sort of war-work, but busy
mothers with only one maid couldn't manage more. And I loved it,
especially in Cork: the Irish boys were dears, and so keen. I had a
great respect for those boys. The lads who enlisted in England had
all their chums doing the same thing, and everybody patted them on the
back and said how noble they were, and gave them parties and speeches
and presents. But the Irish boys enlisted, very often, dead against
the wishes of their own people, and against their priest--and you've
got to live in Ireland to know what _that_ means."

"The wonder to me was, always, the number of Irishmen who did enlist,"
said Major Hunt. "And aren't they fighters!"

"They must be great," Jim said. "You should hear our fellows talk
about the Dublins and the Munsters in Gallipoli." His face clouded:
it was a grievous matter to Jim that he had not been with those other
Australian boys who had already made the name of Anzac ring through
the world.

"Yes, you must be very proud of your country," Mrs. Hunt said, with
her charming smile. "I tell my husband that we must emigrate there
after the w