and, as I said, went to call on Miss Barkley, who was on duty.
At dinner I ate very quickly and left for the villa where the British had their hospital. It was really very large and beautiful and there were fine trees in the grounds. Miss Barkley was sitting on a bench in the garden. Miss Ferguson was with her. They seemed glad to see me and in a little while Miss Ferguson excused herself and went away.
“I’ll leave you two,” she said. “You get along very well without me.”
“Don’t go, Helen,” Miss Barkley said.
“I’d really rather. I must write some letters.”
“Good-night,” I said.
“Good-night, Mr. Henry.”
“Don’t write anything that will bother the censor.”
“Don’t worry. I only write about what a beautiful place we live in and how brave the Italians are.”
“That way you’ll be decorated.”
“That will be nice. Good-night, Catherine.”
“I’ll see you in a little while,” Miss Barkley said. Miss Ferguson walked away in the dark.
“‘She’s nice,” I said.
“Oh, yes, she’s very nice. She’s a nurse.”
“Aren’t you a nurse?”
“Oh, no. I’m something called a V. A. D. We work very hard but no one trusts us.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t trust us when there’s nothing going on. When there is really work they trust us.”
“What is the difference?”
“A nurse is like a doctor. It takes a long time to be. A V. A. D. is a short cut.”
“I see.”
