“Do they seem well supplied?”

I replied that they appeared to be thoroughly equipped, but that the amount of supplies required w&s terrifying and that at one time some of the hospitals had experienced difficulty in securing what they needed.

“One hospital in Calais,” I said, “received twelve thousand pairs of bed socks in one week last autumn, and could not get a bandage.”

“Those things happened early in the war.  We are doing much better now.  England had not expected war.  We were totally unprepared.”

And in the great analysis that is to come, that speech of the Queen of England is the answer to many questions.  England had not expected war.  Every roll of the drum as the men of the new army march along the streets, every readjustment necessary to a peaceful people suddenly thrust into war, every month added to the length of time it has taken to put England in force into the field, shifts the responsibility to where it belongs.  Back of all fine questions of diplomatic negotiation stands this one undeniable fact.  To deny it is absurd; to accept it is final.

“What is your impression of the French and Belgian hospitals?” Her Majesty inquired.

I replied that none were so good as the English, that France had always depended on her nuns in such emergencies, and, there being no nuns in France now, her hospital situation was still not good.

“The priests of Belgium are doing wonderful work,” I said.  “They have suffered terribly during the war.”

“It is very terrible,” said Her Majesty.  “Both priests and nuns have suffered, as England has reason to know.”

The Queen spoke of the ladies connected with the Guild.

“They are really much overworked,” she said.  “They are giving all their time day after day.  They are splendid.  And many of them, of course, are in great anxiety.”

Already, by her tact and her simplicity of manner, she had put me at my ease.  The greatest people, I have found, have this quality of simplicity.  When she spoke of the anxieties of her ladies, I wished that I could have conveyed to her, from so many Americans, their sympathy in her own anxieties, so keen at that time, so unselfishly borne.  But the lady-in-waiting was speaking: 

“Please tell the Queen about your meeting with King Albert.”

So I told about it.  It had been unconventional, and the recital amused Her Majesty.  It was then that I realised how humorous her mouth was, how very blue and alert her eyes.  I told it all to her, the things that insisted on slipping off my lap, and the King’s picking them up; the old envelope he gave me on which to make notes of the interview; how I had asked him whether he would let me know when the interview was over, or whether I ought to get up and go!  And finally, when we were standing talking before my departure, how I had suddenly remembered that I was not to stand nearer to His Majesty than six feet, and had hastily backed away and explained, to his great amusement.