I reported once more to Colonel Burbank who turned me over to Major Cross, who said with a provoking wink, “You will have to go to a hospital--perhaps you would prefer the one Doctor Rich has charge of? When your wound is healed, you will get a permission for two weeks more. Perhaps you will prefer to stay near there during your permission!” Then with a chuckle of amusement he added, “I see that Monte Carlo has been offered as a leave area, but has not been accepted. Just imagine the ‘Y’ or the Salvation Army setting up headquarters in front of the Casino.” “I don’t want much of a permission,” I said, “for I have a debt to pay the Huns before I die; and I am afraid that in spite of your going into a rest sector soon, you will get them licked before I can get around to fight them.” “Don’t worry about that,” answered he. “There will be fighting enough, so that half of us may possibly be dead before we have finished this job; especially if the last sample of fighting you gave us is repeated.” “I know that I lost more men than I should,” I replied. “Still I don’t believe the Huns thought that their fun paid for their powder.” “No, nor I either,” said the major, putting out his hand and grasping my shoulder with the other. “You made a good skillful fight of it.” “I have some doubts about the skill,” I said; “but my men! weren’t they daisies for a scrap?” And we agreed about that. The next day I took my departure for the hospital with conflicting emotions. I wanted to go, and yet I wanted to stay, for fear that I might miss a chance to hit back at the Huns. But obedience to orders and--other considerations--tipped the scales. I can not describe my reception at the hospital without appearing egotistical. While my wound was given proper attention, it was pleasant to feel that, for once, in a hospital, I was something more than a “_case_.” Emily’s face beamed with pleasure as with smiles and blushes she greeted me. She was not so wordy in her expressions of welcome as was Miss Rich; but somehow I liked Emily’s way best. Dr. Rich had common sense; he did not prescribe any special diet, but when I hinted that a liberal one suited me best, said: “Eat what best agrees with you. A patient ought to know what agrees with him better than a doctor.” That suited me exactly. He gave me perfect liberty to go and come just as I pleased--only I must report once a day to have my wound dressed, and of course three times a day for my meals, and also sleep there. I stuck to that hospital, and one of its nurses, more faithfully than perhaps my case demanded; and I was interested in cases and in everything else of which Emily had charge.