Curiously Mildred Thornton was also spending an unexpected afternoon. She had been looking forward to her walk with Mrs. Curtis. Mildred too had been feeling the strain of the first weeks at the hospital more than she had confessed. She was one of the girls whom one speaks of as a natural nurse—quiet, sympathetic and efficient—and so had immediately been given especially trying cases. And Mildred was not accustomed to roughing it, since her home surroundings were luxurious and beautiful. So though she had made no complaint and showed no lack of courage, as Barbara had, she was tired and now and then, when she had time to think, homesick.

Mrs. Curtis had been kind and whatever prejudice the other girls felt, she sincerely liked her. Moreover, Mildred also liked her son, although this she had not confessed so freely to herself. But she was thinking of both of them as she walked through the fields to the home of MÈre Marie.

Perhaps Mrs. Curtis would have received news from Brooks. He was supposed to be not far away making a study of conditions in the British line of trenches not far from the Belgian border. He must know extraordinarily interesting things. Mildred too shared the almost morbid curiosity which everybody of intelligence feels today. What is a modern battlefield really like, what is the daily life of the soldier, and what is this strange new world of the trenches, where men live and work underground as if all humanity had developed the tendencies of the mole?

Mildred did not share Nona Davis’ desire to go and find out these things for herself, but being so near the scene of action as they were could not but stimulate one’s interest. And daily the motor ambulances brought the wounded from the nearby battlefield to their door.

At MÈre Marie’s Mildred first saw the boy Anton sitting crouched before the hut. He leered at her foolishly and said something which she did not understand. So somewhat nervously Mildred knocked on the heavy wooden door. She too was afraid of Anton; one could scarcely help being, although all the people in the neighborhood insisted that he was perfectly harmless. As he used to bring vegetables from his mother’s garden and run errands for the staff at the hospital, he was a very well-known character.

However, Mildred was just as glad when the door opened.

But to her surprise, instead of seeing Mrs. Curtis, Brooks Curtis was there to greet her.

He seemed a little nervous at first, but when Mildred showed pleasure at seeing him, became more cheerful.

MÈre Marie’s big room was empty and so the girl and young man sat down on wooden stools in front of the smouldering peat fire.

It appeared that Brooks was discouraged. So far he had not been allowed to get inside the British firing line and feared that his newspaper at home would be disappointed in him.

Mildred did her best to reassure him. She was accustomed to trying to make people more comfortable. All her life her brother Dick had been confiding his annoyances to her, depending on her sympathy and advice. And Mildred had been missing Dick dreadfully since the first hour of her sailing. For though possibly he was as spoiled and selfish as Barbara Meade plainly thought him, he was a fairly satisfactory brother in his way. So she found it not unpleasant to behave in a sisterly fashion toward Brooks Curtis.

Indeed, half an hour had passed before it occurred to Mildred that Mrs. Curtis had not appeared and that she had not even asked for her.

However, just as she was making up her mind to inquire, Mrs. Curtis came into the room.

She had on a dressing gown and looked pale and ill.

“I am so sorry. I suppose Brooks has explained to you,” she began. “But I have a frightful headache and don’t feel equal to going out this afternoon. I don’t think you should miss your walk, Miss Thornton, you are kept indoors so much at the hospital. So I wonder if you won’t take your walk with Brooks instead of me and then come back here and have coffee and cake.”

Mildred felt a little uncomfortable. There was no doubt of Mrs. Curtis’ illness; seldom had she seen anybody more nervous and wretched from a headache. Yet Mildred did not know exactly what to do or say. Very much she desired to spend a part of her one free afternoon in the air and sunshine away from the pain and sorrow of the hospital. She was not averse to spending it with Brooks Curtis instead of his mother. But she was not sure whether it would be right for her to take a walk alone with a man whom she really knew nothing about. The days on shipboard had made them behave like fairly intimate friends. However, she also felt it would appear stupid and unfriendly of her to refuse. Even if Eugenia and the other girls disapproved later, the whole question of Mrs. Curtis and her son was not their affair. Moreover, Mildred did not intend confiding in them.

So she blushed a little and then answered awkwardly.

“Oh, of course I don’t want to miss my walk and I don’t mind if Mr. Curtis wishes to come with me. Only he is not to trouble, because I am not afraid to go alone.”

Then Mildred felt like stamping her foot. Ever since getting away from the conventional society atmosphere of her own home she had been more at ease and less self-conscious. Had not her friendship with Mrs. Curtis and her son proved that she was not always stiff and silent? Assuredly Brooks had preferred her to any of the other girls, even though they were far prettier and more attractive. Yet here she was, through her old shyness, spoiling everything.

Mildred smiled unexpectedly, which always relieved the plainness of her face.

“I was not telling the truth then,” she added, “I should enjoy my walk ever so much more if Mr. Curtis will go with me.”

An hour later and the girl and her companion had climbed the nearest hill in that part of the country. It was not quite a mile from the hospital and was not a very high hill, yet Mildred was surprised at the splendid view.

Brooks Curtis had brought with him the fine telescope which he had used on the steamer in spite of the difficulty with his eyes.

He pointed out to Mildred the direction in which General Sir John French’s army lay entrenched. One could not see the exact place because the line of trenches covered twelve miles of battle front and many other miles of underground passages. Then he told her that the right wing of the British army which was in position nearest their hospital was under the command of Lieutenant-General Porter and that Colonel Dalton, who was ill, was one of his most talented officers.

Secretly Mildred Thornton was amazed and fascinated. She had been convinced early in their acquaintance that Brooks Curtis was an unusually clever fellow. He was not handsome and there was something a little odd about him. Mildred was sympathetic with people who were not good looking and not at ease. Now she was really surprised at his information about the British army. For after all he had only been in France for a short time.

“But I thought you said you had not been able to go through the trenches,” Mildred expostulated, “yet already you know a great deal.”

The young man shook his head mournfully. “I know nothing of importance yet,” he returned with such emphasis that Mildred was the more impressed. Above all things she admired determination of character.

Then for a few moments neither the girl nor the young man spoke.

Mildred was trying to locate in a vague fashion certain positions of the army which her companion had just described. Two miles farther to the north Mildred could see a low range of hills which seemed deeply curtained by trees. In the midst of those trees Brooks insisted the British army had stationed long-range guns. They were guns of a new character and no one yet knew what their power of destruction might be. Behind the artillery there were telephone connections with the trenches miles away.

Really Mildred Thornton was too interested in the information imparted by her new friend to pay any special attention to what he might be doing.

However, he had taken off his glasses, gotten out a note book and was now writing as rapidly as possible.

By and by he got out an envelope and put the papers inside it, together with some others that were there previously.

At this minute Mildred looked around.

“Oh, dear, it is late; we must be going back as quickly as possible!” she exclaimed, and then got up without allowing her companion opportunity to assist her.

Nevertheless, the young man did not follow her for a moment.

“I wish you would stay just an instant longer,” he asked instead.

And when Mildred turned he still held the envelope in his hand.

“I want to ask you a favor, Miss Thornton, and I don’t know just how to explain. I wonder if you will be good enough to mail this letter of mine from the hospital along with your own home mail? You see, it is like this with the newspaper fellows, all our mail is so censored that the news we want to send to the United States is usually cut out before it arrives. There is no good my writing exactly what the other fellows send. So I thought if you would mail this for me like private mail along with the nurses’ letters, why I’d stand a chance. I know it is asking a good deal of a favor of you. But somehow I have felt you were my friend ever since our first meeting and my mother feels the same way. You see, we are awfully poor. Of course you can’t know what that means, but for my mother’s sake and my own I’m terribly anxious to make good with my war stories. I feel if I can make a reputation now my future will be assured.”

Whether Brooks Curtis was a student of character or not, one does not yet know. But certainly he had gauged Mildred.

If there was anything that did appeal to her it was the thought of another’s struggle and the possibility that she might help. Just because she had always spent such a rich and sheltered life her desire to aid others was the stronger. So Mildred promised to mail the letter to an address in Brooklyn, placing the address on the envelope with her own handwriting so as to avoid questioning.

Neither did she feel that she was doing anything unusual. The deception was too small to be considered. Besides, what difference could it make to the hospital authorities if one more letter were added to their mail bag?

“I shall never cease to appreciate your kindness,” Brooks Curtis said at parting, “and you won’t mind, will you, if now and then Anton brings you other letters to the hospital? I may not be able to get away to bring them myself.”

Mildred nodded without thinking of this side of the question seriously. The truth of the matter was that she was in too much of a hurry now to return to her work. Although she had not gone back to MÈre Marie’s for coffee, they had been out longer than she realized.