And partly about myself. I want to do something, Mrs.
Valentine. I can drive a car, but not very well. I don't know a
thing about the engine. And I can nurse a little. I like nursing."
Audrey studied her face. It seemed to her sad beyond words that
this young girl, who should have had only happiness, was facing the
horrors of what would probably be a long war. It was the young who
paid the price of war, in death, in empty years. Already the
careless gayety of their lives was gone. For the dream futures they
had planned they had now to substitute long waiting; for happiness,
service.
"The Red Cross is going to send canteen workers to France. You might
do that."
"If I only could! But I can't leave mother. Not entirely. Father
is going. He wants to go and fight, but I'm afraid they won't take
him. He'll go as a chaplain, anyhow. But he's perfectly helpless,
you know. Mother says she is going to tie his overshoes around his
neck."
"I'll see if I can think of something for you, Delight.
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