CHAPTER VIII. THE SANITARY CORPS. In the centre of the Brownie camp were three large tents, the officers' headquarters, the hospital tent, and the marquée of the Sanitary Corps. These were wrought out of large leaves, deftly stretched upon frames, with edges overlapping like a tiled roof, and anchored to the ground by small pebbles, heaps of sand, and by tent pins of thorns or splinters. [Illustration: FIG. 37.--The Hospital Tent and Marquée of the Sanitary Corps.] The Headquarters' tent was occupied by the chief officers, Bruce, Rodney, MacWhirlie and Pipe. The Hospital tent was devoted to the sick and wounded. But one would not easily imagine who were the occupants of the Sanitary tent; we shall therefore lift the door of the marquée, and peep within. It is a snug place. In the centre, well up toward the roof, a large fox-fire lantern hangs from the ridge pole which sheds a soft light throughout the interior. A strong odor of herbs and ointments fills the place, the reason for which soon appears. Four wee Brownie women are busy with retorts, jars, boxes, lint, bandages, and various other articles of the healing art. The oldest of the party, judged by our human standard, has reached that uncertain boundary of womanhood which divides maiden from matron. One might venture to call her an "old maid" Brownie, and perhaps she would not deny it, for that is a class--God bless them!--whom the Brownies dearly love. But no one could aver that the fairy woman had suffered loss of charms by advance in life. One glance into her face shows how pure, gentle and good must be the disposition that has wrought the tracery of such sweet expression around her features. Her name is Agatha; she is the only child of Captain Bruce, and one does not wonder, having once seen her, that even the Brownies call her Agatha the Good. She is spreading upon tiny bandages out of a tiny jar some kind of ointment, the recipe for which you may be sure is in none of our dispensaries, but which the Brownies call Lily Balm. The young Brownie who attends her, not as handmaid but companion, is called Grace. Her face is such a goodly one, her manners are so gentle, easy and winning, her every movement so graceful, delicate and yet so full of life, that we shall not be surprised to hear you say: "Surely, she must be the Fairy Queen herself!"