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Updated: June 18, 2025
Those fellows in No. 3 Hospital are ringing me up. Why couldn't they keep quiet on Christmas Day? I must go though, and I may be kept. You'll have to make the speech and thank Miss Willmot." Digby escaped making the speech in the end. Just as the distribution of cakes and mince pies had finished, when Digby was searching frantically for an opening sentence, the Major returned.
He was willing to go to great lengths, to take risks in order to oblige a friend whom he liked and respected. He had an Irishman's feeling that laws and regulations are not meant to apply to ladies like Miss Willmot. "Did you think to ask leave of the Major, miss?" he said. "No," said Miss Willmot, "I didn't ask anybody's leave."
"Let's have our tea in peace." "Drink, I suppose," said Miss Willmot "Why will they do it, just at Christmas, too?" "This isn't a drunk," said Digby. "The wretched devil has been sent down here under arrest from No. 73 Hospital. He's to be court-martialled. He's only a boy, and a decent-looking boy, too.
I hate to think of his being shut up in that cell all by himself at Christmas with nobody to do anything for him." "What can we do?" said Miss Willmot. "I can't do anything, of course," said Digby, "but I thought you might." "I don't see what I can do." "Well, try," said Digby. "If you'd seen the poor fellow But you'll do something for him, won't you?"
"Thank you, thank you both," said Miss Willmot "If it hadn't been for your help I'd never have got the decorations done at all." The men left the hut, and Miss Willmot locked the door behind them. The canteen was closed until it opened in all its glory on Christmas afternoon.
She was thinking that next day the men for once would feast to the full in the canteen eat, drink, smoke, without paying a penny. She knew how well they deserved all she could do for them, these men who had done so much, borne so much, who still had so much to do and bear. Miss Willmot thanked God as she stood there that she had money to spend for the men. "Tea! tea! tea! Tea's ready.
"No fear, miss," said Lance-Corporal Bates; "I'm all right." Lance-Corporal Bates had three gold bars on the sleeve of his tunic. He might fairly be reckoned a man of courage. His position, when Miss Willmot spoke to him, demanded nerve. He stood on the top rail of the back of a chair, a feeble-looking chair.
I was expecting to get my stripe over that raid when I got hit with a bullet in my leg, and here I am charged with a coward's trick. I suppose they'll prove it I suppose they've got what they call evidence. I only hope they'll shoot me quick and have done with it I don't want to live." Miss Willmot went over to the boy and took his hand. She led him to the corner of the bare room.
Miss Nelly perched, with dangling feet, on a corner of the sink in which cups and dishes were washed Digby, choir-master and conductor, stood in front of the stove. "Now then," he said, "we'll begin with 'Nowell. Major, here's your note La-a-a" he boomed out a low note. "Got it?" "La-a-a," growled the Major. "Miss Willmot, alto," said Digby, "la-a-a.
But that thought did not spoil his satisfaction. Digby saw, or thought he saw, his opportunity. "There's one poor fellow in the guard-room, sir," he said. "Will he get any Christmas dinner?" He winked at Miss Willmot as he spoke. This was the time for her to back up his charitable appeal. "Ah," said the Major, "I'm afraid I can't do much for him.
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