The next day they made another little town. So quickly and unexpectedly had the enemy been forced to evacuate it that there had been no time to destroy or pillage, and the shells had somehow passed it by. The town was full of liberated French--the young and very old--who crowded the streets and shouted their welcome as the troops passed through. The chapel was flung open to receive the wounded, and the hospital unit was installed therein. As Sheila O'Leary crossed the threshold of the little church a strange feeling sprang at her, so that her throat went dry and her heart almost stopped beating. It was as if something apart from her and yet not apart had spoken and said: "Here is where the big moment of your life will be staged. Whatever matters for all time will happen here, and what has gone before--the San, the hospital, everything you have felt, striven for, believed in, and trusted--all that is but a prologue. The real part of your life is just beginning--or--" Griggs broke the terror that was clutching at her. "What's the matter? Don't you know there's a war going on and about a million wounded coming in? There are a few hundred of them up there, lying round under the images of the saints. The saints may bless 'em, but they won't dress 'em. The chief's growling for you. Come along!" For once she was grateful to the pessimist. She tried to brush the strangeness away as she hurried down the aisle, but it clung in spite of her. And at the altar more strangeness confronted her. A slightly wounded lad suddenly reached out a hand holding a crumpled paper. "Guess you're Miss O'Leary, ain't you? He said there wasn't much of a chance, but what you don't expect over here is what you get. You know?" The incoherency was lost on Sheila. She took the crumpled paper wonderingly and found it covered with Peter's scribbled hieroglyphics: BELOVED: The boys have been telling me about you--to think you're really with us and standing by! It may bring its dole of horror--bound to--we all have our turn at it. If it comes, hold to your courage and take deep hold of that wonder-soul of yours; that will steady you. And remember, there is peace coming, and home--yours and mine. Close your eyes when the sights get too bad, and you'll see that blessed house of ours on the hilltop you've chosen; you'll see the little lamp shining us good cheer. Think of that. I'm with the other wing now, but any day I may be shifted to yours. Until then, Yours, "P. B."