"Willie's the lad that died last year," Mrs. Bond whispered to Helen.
Mrs. Jenkins had the only dry eyes in the cramped little room. Women do not weep when they are dying. Saliva was still drooling from her mouth, and Mrs. Bond wiped it gently away with a soft rag as she gave her a spoonful of the jelly. The cordial in it soothed her and she closed her eyes again.
"It's the reg'lations about childer," continued Mrs. Bond in a low voice. "Soldiers' wives cannot take their childer wee 'em on a march."
"Where are her children?" Helen asked with trembling lips.
"Wee 'er mother," was the reply. "She was wee 'em hersel' for a week after she came back from Spain. And they say she cut up awful when she 'ad to leave 'em again."
"Have you got any children?" was Helen's next question, her mind becoming unpleasantly familiar with actual facts.
"Yes indeed, marm! I've three living--please God--they are pretty big now. I used to leave them when they were little sometimes, an' it was killing work, I tell you. But now they're big, an' placed; an' its different when they can take care of theirselves."
By this time Mrs. Hardman had returned. She was younger than the other two, and although married for several years, perhaps fortunately for a soldier's wife, she had no children.
"She's very low, marm," was her first expression.
"Has the chaplain been to see her?" Helen asked.
"Yes, marm, 'ee was here this afternoon, and said 'ee'd come again in the mornin'."
"She won't be living then," said the Corporal, wringing his hands. "Oh, my Betsy, my bonny wife! What'll I do without ye?"
Her eyes slowly opened and rested upon her husband who was kneeling beside her. Gradually a rational look came into her face. A faint smile lit up her features as he clasped her hand.
"Come, Helen," said Harold, gently drawing his wife away. "I will have the chaplain sent at once if you like, but I don't see what he can do now."
"He might comfort them, perhaps," she whispered as again she followed him. "What awfully sad lives army women have anyway!" she continued as she dashed away the tears that would persist in flowing. "Too bad for her to die. I wonder if it had to be? And that calomel, I hate it. The women say that pints of water have been running from her mouth for days. No wonder she could not eat. The poor thing's a mere skeleton."