who's
knocked up in munition-work. Don't expect me till you see me. But I
daresay I shan't be later than Friday.'

Bridget Cookson had never yet arrived at telling falsehoods for the mere
pleasure of it. On the whole she preferred not to tell them. But she was
well aware that her letter to Nelly contained a good many, both
expressed and implied.

Well, that couldn't be helped. She put up her letter, and then proceeded
to look carefully through the contents of her handbag. Yes, her passport
was all right, and her purse with its supply of notes. Also the letter
that she was to present to the Base Commandant, or the Red Cross
representative at the port of landing. The latter had been left open for
her to read. It was signed 'Ernest Howson, M.D.,' and asked that Miss
Bridget Cookson might be sent forward to No. 102, General Hospital, X
Camp, France, as quickly as possible.

There was also another letter addressed to herself in the same
handwriting. She opened it and glanced through it--

'DEAR MISS COOKSON,--I think I have made everything as easy for you as I
can on this side. You won't have any difficulty. I'm awfully glad you're
coming. I myself am much puzzled, and don't know what to think. Anyway I
am quite clear that my right course was to communicate with
you--_first._ Everything will depend on what you say.'

The following afternoon, Bridget found herself, with a large party of
V.A.D.'s, and other persons connected with the Red Cross, on board a
Channel steamer. The day was grey and cold, and Bridget having tied on
her life-belt, and wrapped herself in her thickest cloak, found a seat
in the shelter of the deck cabins whence the choppy sea, the destroyer
hovering round them, and presently the coast of France were visible. A
secret excitement filled her. What was she going to see? and what was
she going to do? All round her too were the suggestions of war,
commonplace and familiar by now to half the nation, but not to Bridget
who had done her best to forget the war. The steamer deck was crowded
with officers returning from leave who were walking up and down, all of
them in life-belts, chatting and smoking. All eyes were watchful of the
sea, and the destroyer; and the latest submarine gossip passed from
mouth to mouth. The V.A.D.'s with a few army nurses, kept each other
company on the stern deck. The mild sea gave no one any excuse for
discomfort, and the pleasant-faced rosy girls in their becoming
uniforms, lau