particular emphasis being laid on the evils of flirting, impertinence, and gum-chewing. Upward of 200 girls were finally selected, provided with uniforms and overseas caps of navy serge—which looked as though they might have been designed by the technical experts of the Signal Corps—and sent to France as full-fledged members of the A. E. F. No pupils at a fashionable girls’ boarding-school were ever more strictly chaperoned. At Tours quarters were built for them on an island in the Loire, which was connected with the mainland by a narrow foot-bridge, the military police on duty at the end of the bridge only permitting the girls to “go ashore” when they were accompanied by a matron or were in pairs. Notwithstanding the strictness of the regulations under which they lived and worked, it was a girl’s own fault if she came home unengaged. Though it goes without saying that the military authorities took every precaution against exposing the girls to danger, those who were on duty in towns near the front, such as Toul, on numerous occasions tasted the excitement of German air-raids, one of them being cited in army orders for remaining at her post and coolly continuing to operate her switchboard “whence all but she had fled.” I always liked the true story of the telephone-girl who, upon her arrival at an American port of debarkation, informed the landing officer that she was a second lieutenant. “But why do you call yourself a second lieutenant?” he inquired. “No commissions have been given to telephone-girls.” “I don’t see what that’s got to do with it,” she retorted, tossing her head. “I get more pay than a second lieutenant, and I’ve been of more use to the army than any second lieutenant that I know.”