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None of that, you may be sure, and none of that allowed in her hospital; for Miss Champion was in command there, and I can tell you she made them scoot.She did the work of ten, and expected others to do it too.Doctors and orderlies adored her.She was always called 'The Honourable Jane,' most of the men sounding the H and pronouncing the title as four syllables.Ay, and the wounded soldiers! There was many a lad out there, far from home and friends, who, when death came, died with a smile on his lips, and a sense of mother and home quite near, because the Honourable Jane's arm was around him, and his dying head rested against her womanly breast.

Her voice when she talked to them? No,--that I shall never forget.

And to hear her snap at the women, and order along the men; and then turn and speak to a sick Tommy as his mother or his sweetheart would have wished to hear him spoken to, was a lesson in quick-change from which I am profiting still.And that big, loving heart must often have been racked; but she was always brave and bright.Just once she broke down.It was over a boy whom she tried hard to save--quite a youngster.She had held him during the operation which was his only chance; and when it proved no good, and he lay back against her unconscious, she quite broke down and said: 'Oh, doctor,--a mere boy--and to suffer so, and then die like this!' and gathered him to her, and wept over him, as his own mother might have done.The surgeon told me of it himself.He said the hardest hearts in the tent were touched and softened.But, it was the only time the Honourable Jane broke down."Garth shielded his face with his hand.His half-smoked cigarette fell unheeded to the floor.The hand that had held it was clenched on his knee.Dr.Rob picked it up, and rubbed the scorched spot on the carpet carefully with his foot.He glanced towards the window.

Nurse Rosemary had turned and was leaning against the frame.She did not look at him, but her eyes dwelt with troubled anxiety on Garth.

"I came across her several times, at different centres," continued Dr.Rob; "but we were not in the same departments, and she spoke to me only once.I had ridden in, from a temporary overflow sort of place where we were dealing with the worst cases straight off the field, to the main hospital in the town for a fresh supply of chloroform.While they fetched it, I walked round the ward, and there in a corner was Miss Champion, kneeling beside a man whose last hour was very near, talking to him quietly, and taking measures at the same time to ease his pain.Suddenly there came a crash--a deafening rush--and another crash, and the Honourable Jane and her patient were covered with dust and splinters.A Boer shell had gone clean through the roof just over their heads.The man sat up, yelling with fear.Poor chap, you couldn't blame him; dying, and half under morphine.The Honourable Jane never turned a hair.'Lie down, my man,' she said, 'and keep still.' 'Not here,' sobbed the man.'All right,' said the Honourable Jane; 'we will soon move you.'

Then she turned and saw me.I was in the most nondescript khaki, a non-com's jacket which I had caught up on leaving the tent, and various odds and ends of my outfit which had survived the wear and tear of the campaign.Also I was dusty with a long gallop.'Here, serjeant,' she said, 'lend a hand with this poor fellow.I can't have him disturbed just now.' That was Jane's only comment on the passing of a shell within a few yards of her own head.Do you wonder the men adored her? She placed her hands beneath his shoulders, and signed to me to take him under the knees, and together we carried him round a screen, out of the ward, and down a short passage;turning unexpectedly into a quiet little room, with a comfortable bed, and photographs and books arranged on the tiny dressing-table.

She said: 'Here, if you please, serjeant,' and we laid him on the bed.'Whose is it?' I asked.She looked surprised at being questioned, but seeing I was a stranger, answered civilly: 'Mine.'

And then, noting that he had dozed off while we carried him, added:

'And he will have done with beds, poor chap, before I need it.'

There's nerve for you!--Well, that was my only conversation out there with the Honourable Jane.Soon after I had had enough and came home."Garth lifted his head."Did you ever meet her at home?" he asked.

"I did," said Dr.Rob."But she did not remember me.Not a flicker of recognition.Well, how could I expect it? I wore a beard out there; no time to shave; and my jacket proclaimed me a serjeant, not a surgeon.No fault of hers if she did not expect to meet a comrade from the front in the wilds of--of Piccadilly," finished Dr.Rob lamely."Now, having spun so long a yarn, I must be off to your gardener's cot in the wood, to see his good wife, who has had what he pathetically calls 'an increase.' I should think a decrease would have better suited the size of his house.But first I must interview Mistress Margery in the dining-room.She is anxious about herself just now because she 'canna eat bacon.' She says it flies between her shoulders.So erratic a deviation from its normal route on the part of the bacon, undoubtedly requires investigation.So, by your leave, I will ring for the good lady.""Not just yet, doctor," said a quiet voice from the window."I want to see you in the dining-room, and will follow you there immediately.And afterwards, while you investigate Margery, I will run up for my bonnet, and walk with you through the woods, if Mr.

Dalmain will not mind an hour alone."

When Jane reached the dining-room, Dr.Robert Mackenzie was standing on the hearth-rug in a Napoleonic attitude, just as on the morning of their first interview.He looked up uncertainly as she came in.

"Well?" he said."Am I to pay the piper?"Jane came straight to him, with both hands extended.