THE WAR-WORKERS BY E.M. DELAFIELD Author of "Zella Sees Herself" William Heinemann London 1918 To J. A. S. A very small token of innumerable bonds of union Author's Foreword The "Midland Supply Depôt" of _The War-Workers_ has no counterpart in real life, and the scenes and characters described are also purely imaginary. E.M. Delafield I At the Hostel for Voluntary Workers, in Questerham, Miss Vivian, Director of the Midland Supply Depôt, was under discussion that evening. Half a dozen people, all of whom had been working for Miss Vivian ever since ten o'clock that morning, as they had worked the day before and would work again the next day, sat in the Hostel sitting-room and talked about their work and about Miss Vivian. No one ever talked anything but "shop," either in the office or at the Hostel. "Didn't you think Miss Vivian looked awfully tired today?" "No wonder, after Monday night. You know the train wasn't in till past ten o'clock. I think those troop-trains tire her more than anything." "She doesn't have to cut cake and bread-and-butter and sandwiches for two hours before the train gets in, though. I've got the usual blister today," said an anaemic-looking girl of twenty, examining her forefinger. There was a low scoffing laugh from her neighbour. "Miss Vivian cutting bread-and-butter! She does quite enough without that, Henderson. She had the D.G.V.O. in there yesterday afternoon for ages. I thought he was _never_ going. I stood outside her door for half an hour, I should think, absolutely hung up over the whole of my work, and I knew she was fearfully busy herself." "It's all very well for you, Miss Delmege—you're her secretary and work in her room, but _we_ can't get at her unless we're sent for. I simply didn't know what to do about those surgical supplies for the Town Hospital this morning, and Miss Vivian never sent for me till past eleven o'clock. It simply wasted half my morning." "She didn't have a minute; the telephone was going the whole time," said Miss Delmege quickly. "But yesterday, you know, when the D.G.V.O. wouldn't go, I thought she was going to be late at the station for that troop-train, and things were fairly desperate, so what d'you suppose I did?" "Dashed into her room and got your head snapped off?" some one suggested languidly. "I shall never forget one day last week when _I_ didn't know which way to _turn_, we were so busy, and I went in without being sent for, and Miss Vivian--"