All the windows of the V.A.D. hospital were brilliantly lighted up, and
through them floated the strains of a piano and occasional bursts of
laughter. Number One Ward, however, was quite empty except for my
friend, Private McPhee, stalking majestically up and down as if on
sentry go, wearing a "fit of the blues" several sizes too large for him
and an expression which would, I believe, be described by kailyard
novelists as "dour."
"Bong jaw, Mademawselle," he exclaimed, bringing his stick smartly to
the salute, "or rather bong saw, tae be correct."
McPhee has affected the Gallic tongue since his sojourn in France.
"Why, what are you doing all by yourself, McPhee?" I asked. "Are you on
duty?"
"Na, na," he said, "ah'm pleasin' masel just."
He paused and emitted a fierce chuckle.
"Ah'm gettin' even," he announced; "they wantit me to gang oot wi' a
wumman."
"But whatever made them want you to do that, McPhee?"
"One o' thae nurses," continued the patient smoulderingly. "Ah fought at
Mons, an' Ah fought at New Chapelle, an' Ah fought at Wipers, that's
what ignorant pairsons ca' Eepers; and they wantit me to gang oot wi' a
wumman. Why for did they no send me oot to fight the Jairmans in a
peerambulator?"
"Oh," I said, at last enlightened. "But surely, McPhee, the nurses are
very nice. And think how hurt they will be if you won't go out with
them."
"Ah'm no denyin' some o' them are a' recht," said McPhee grudgingly,
"but it's a maitter o' preenciple. An' I'm gettin' even wi' them the
noo!"
He chuckled again.
"But how are you getting even?"
"Ah'm no dressin' up for them," said the vengeful one; "ye ken thae
nurses are havin' a kin' of a bairthday pairty or the like, an' a' the
men's dressed up to please them. An' if Ah canna gang oot to please
masel, Ah canna dress oop like a monkeyback to please them.
"They wantit me to dress up for CHAIRLIE CHAPLIN. Man, the nurse was
argle-barglin' a clock hour tryin' to persuade me to put thae claes on.
'Oh, do' (he squeaked), 'to please me, McPhee.' ... But Ah wouldna. Ah
turnit ma face to the wa' an' wouldna speak a wurrd.
"Ye ken, the ward that gets the maist votes gets a prize, an' thae
nurses is awfu' set on their ward winnin' it. Ah could ha' won it for
Number One. Fine cud I. Ah can turn masel oot so's my ain brither
couldna tell me from HARRY LAUDER. But Ah wouldna. If I canna gang
oot----"
At this point the door opened and a dejected apparition in a ruff and
petticoats, like a rumpled remnant of a pre-war pageant, drifted in and
sat down on a bed.
"Ah weel, Queen Elizabeth, hae they dune wi' ye yet?" inquired McPhee
sardonically.
Gloriana shook his head. "They're playin' musical chairs," he said
gloomily, "so I thought as I wouldn't be missed for a bit. This thing
round my neck does tickle, but my nurse'd be awful 'urt if I took it
off."
McPhee emitted an ejaculation--Gaelic, I believe--usually expressed in
writing "Mphm."
"Sma' things," he said, "please sma' minds.... Wha won the prize?"
"Number Two Ward," said Queen Elizabeth indifferently, "sweets. They're
eatin' 'em. They'll have stummick-aches to-morrer.... But there--it's
the least as we can do to let the nurses 'ave their bit o' fun."
Nurse Robinson hurried up to me on my way out. I thought her looking a
trifle anxious.
"I'm feeling rather worried about one of my men," she began, "Private
McPhee. I wonder if you saw him just now?"
"Oh, yes," I said, "we had quite a long chat."
"Oh, I'm so glad," she exclaimed, "I was really quite afraid he was
wrong in his head. Do you know, he simply refused to dress up for the
party ... and you know how they love dressing up! Such a good dress,
too--CHARLIE CHAPLIN.... And I couldn't get a word out of him! Wasn't it
strange?"
"Very," I said; "convalescents get all kinds of fancies, don't they? And
was the party a success?"
"Splendid!" she said, brightening up. "Of course it's meant a lot of
work. We've been toiling early and late at the costumes. But I'm sure
it's worth it. It does please the poor fellows. Draws them out of
themselves, don't you know."
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