It was a dark, cloudy afternoon when Nona entered the big room and before she had more than crossed the threshold she became aware of an atmosphere of gloom and ill-temper.
Daisy Redmond, the English girl with whom they had crossed the Channel, had been in attendance on the ward before Nona’s appearance and she seemed bored and annoyed. She was a very good nurse for an ill person, but too serious and reserved to cheer the convalescent, and on Nona’s entrance she gave a sigh of relief.
The room, which was used for the soldiers who were on the high road to recovery from whatever disaster they had suffered, must have been the refectory or the old dining hall of the convent in the days before the Franco-Prussian war. It was an oblong room with a high ceiling crossed by great oak beams. Midway up the walls were of dark oak and the rest of stone. The floor was of stone and the windows high and crossed with small iron bars. While they let in the air and sunlight, it was impossible to see much of the outside world unless one climbed a ladder or chair. Evidently it had been thought best not to permit the little French convent maids to seek for distractions even among the flowers and trees.
So the great room, in spite of its perfect cleanliness, had little suggestion of gayety or beauty to recommend it at present. The floor, walls, beds, everything apparently had been scrubbed to the limit of perfection and were smelling of antiseptics. But there was not a flower in the room, not a picture, only two long rows of beds each containing a weary, impatient soldier, longing to be home with his own people or back at the front with the other Tommies.
Almost anyone might have become discouraged with the prospect of two hours’ effort in such surroundings, but Nona never dreamed of flinching.
As she went up toward the first bed, the young fellow with his right arm in a sling who was trying to write with his left hand, used a short word of three letters. He was a boy who worked in a butcher’s shop in London. When he saw Nona so near him, he blushed crimson and stammered an apology.
Nona only laughed. “Oh, I say that myself sometimes, inside of me,” she whispered. “If it hurts your arm, do let me finish your letter. I’d like to add a line or two anyhow just to let Addie know you are really getting well and not trying to encourage her with false hopes.”