' Then she
lifted her eyes again to the distant farm, with its white front and its
dark patch of yews.

'I keep thinking of _their_ telegram--' she said, slowly--'and then of
mine. Oh, this war is too _horrible!'_ She threw up her hands with a
sudden wild gesture, and then let one of them drop into Hester Martin's
grasp. 'In George's last letter he told me he had to go with a message
across a bit of ground that was being shelled. He went with a
telephonist. He crossed first. The other man was to wait and follow him
after an interval. George got across, then the man with the telephone
wire started, and was shot--just as he reached George. He fell into
George's arms--and died. And it might have been George--it might have
been George just as well! It might be George any day!'

Miss Martin looked at her in perplexity. She had no ready-made
consolations--she never had. Perhaps it was that which made her kind
wrinkled face such a welcome sight to those in trouble. But at last she
said--'It is all we women can do--to be patient--and hope--not to let
our courage go down.'

Nelly shook her head.

'I am always saying that to myself--but! when the news comes--_if_ it
comes--what good will that be to me! Oh, I haven't been idle--indeed I
haven't,' she added piteously--'I've worked myself tired every day--just
not to think!'

'I know you have,' Miss Martin pressed the hand in hers. 'Well, now,
he'll be all safe for a fortnight------'

'Perhaps three weeks,' Nelly corrected her, eagerly. Then she looked
round at her new friend, a shy smile lighting up her face, and
bringing back its bloom.

'You know he writes to me nearly every day?'

'It's the way people have--war or no war--when they're in love,' said
Hester Martin drily. 'And you--how often?'

'_Every_ day. I haven't missed once. How could I?--when he wants me to
write--when I hear so often!' And her free hand closed possessively,
greedily, over the letters in her lap.

Hester Martin surveyed her thoughtfully.

'I wouldn't do war-work all day, if I were you,' she said at last. 'Why
don't you go on with your sketching?'

'I was going to try this very afternoon. Sir William said he would give
me a lesson,' was the listless reply.

'He's coming here?'

'He said he would be walking this way, if it was fine,' said Nelly,
indifferently.

Both relapsed into silence. Then Miss Martin enquired after Bridget. The
face beside her darkened a little.

'She's very well.