down into a thin stratified parallelogram with oval ends. The strata of
the said parallelogram, viewed from the aisle, must show no blanket
_edges_, only curves of the blankets' folds: the edges (if visible at
all) must face inwards, not outwards. Correct folding, to be sure, gave
no visible edges, viewed from either side; and, once you caught the
knack, correct folding was just as easy as incorrect--though there were
temperaments which did not find it so and which rebelled against these
niceties.

I was afterwards to learn that this mania for matching (if mania be
indeed a legitimate word for a custom based on common-sense principles
and seldom carried to the extremes which the recruit has been led to
fear) obtains not only in the army but also in the nursing profession.
Not long after I became a ward orderly I got a wigging from my "Sister"
because I had not noticed that every pillow-case of a ward's beds must
face towards the same point of the compass: the pillows on the vista of
beds must be placed in such a manner that the pillow-case mouths are,
all of them, turned away from anyone entering the ward's door. Similarly
the overlap of the counterpanes must all be of exactly the same depth
and caught up at exactly the same angle, the resulting series of pairs
of triangles all ending at exactly the same spot in each bedstead. These
trifles reveal at a glance the professional touch in a ward, and are, I
understand, not by any means the insignia of a military as distinct from
a civilian hospital. They may or may not contribute to the comfort of
the patient, but they betoken the captaincy of one whose methodicalness
will in other and less visible respects most emphatically benefit him.

Our hut life was something more than a mere folding-up of bedding on
bedsteads and great-coats on shelves. After midday dinner it was
allowable to unroll the mattress, make the bed, and rest thereon--which