became convulsed and hurriedly ducked his head into the pages, and I
began to wonder if it was quite the thing to ask for.

Monsieur Tétar appeared to be somewhat scandalized, and exclaimed, "I
know it, Mademoiselle, that song calls itself _Marie-Margot la
Cantinière_, but it is, let me assure you, of a certainty not for the
young girls!" No persuasion on my part could produce it, so our
acquaintance with the fair _Marie-Margot_ went no further than the tune.

The extreme gratitude of the patients was very touching. When they left
for Convalescent homes, other Hospitals, or to return to the trenches,
we received shoals of post cards and letters of thanks. When they came
on leave they never failed to come back and look up the particular
_Miske_ who had tended them, and as often as not brought a souvenir of
some sort from _là bas_.

One man to whom I had sent a parcel wrote me the following letter. I
might add that in Hospital he knew no English at all and had taught
himself in the trenches from a dictionary. This was his letter:

"My lady" (Madame), "The beautiful package is safely
arrived. I thank you profoundly from all my heart. The shawl
(muffler) is at my neck and the good socks are at my feet as
I write. Like that one has well warmth.

"We go to make some café also out of the package, this
evening in our house in the trenches, for which I thank you
again one thousand times.

"Receive, my lady, the most distinguished sentiments on the