a view over the country, while round the flat terraced
roof ran a parapet some two feet high.

During the day the ladies of the station generally gathered at Mr.
Hunter's, which was the bungalow nearest to the hospital. Here they
worked at the bags intended to hold earth, and kept up each other's
spirits as well as they could. Although all looked pale and worn
from anxiety and watching, there were, after the first few days, no
manifestations of fear. Occasionally a tear would drop over their work,
especially in the case of two of the wives of civilians, whose children
were in England; but as a whole their conversation was cheerful, each
trying her best to keep up the spirits of the others. Generally, as soon
as the meeting was complete, Mrs. Hunter read aloud one of the psalms
suited to their position and the prayers for those in danger, then the
work was got out and the needles applied briskly. Even Mrs. Rintoul
showed a fortitude and courage that would not have been expected from
her.

"One never knows people," Mrs. Doolan said to Isobel, as they walked
back from one of these meetings, "as long as one only sees them under
ordinary circumstances. I have never had any patience with Mrs. Rintoul,
with her constant complaining and imaginary ailments. Now that there is
really something to complain about, she is positively one of the calmest
and most cheerful among us. It is curious, is it not, how our talk
always turns upon home? India is hardly ever mentioned. We might be a
party of intimate friends, sitting in some quiet country place, talking
of our girlhood. Why, we have learnt more of each other and each other's
history in the last fortnight than we should have done if we had lived
here together for twenty years under ordinary circumstances. Except as
to your little brother, I think you are the only one, Isobel, who has
not talked much of home."

"I suppose it is because my home was not a very happy one," Isobel said.

"I notice that all the talk is about happy scenes, nothing is ever said
about disagreeables. I suppose, my dear, it is just as I have heard,
that starving people talk about the feasts they have eaten, so we talk
of the pleasant times we have had. It is the contrast that makes them
dearer. It is funny, too, if anything can be funny in these days, how
different we are in the evening, when we have the men with us, to what
we are when we are together alone in the day. Another curious thing is
that our t