Recognizing what a press of work there would be at the hospital, I walked up there in the afternoon, and asked to be made useful.  No doubt out of good feeling, the Boers did not shell at all that day till late evening, but at the hospital all was sad perturbation.  There had only been time to attend to the worst cases, and the poor nurses were just sitting down to snatch a hasty meal.  The matron asked me if I would undertake the management of a convalescent home that had to be organized to make more room for the new patients.  Of course I consented, and by evening we were busy installing sixteen patients in the railway servants’ institute, near the station.  To look after the inmates were myself, four other ladies, and one partly professional nurse.  We arranged that the latter should attend every day, and the four ladies each take a day in turn, while I undertook to be there constantly to order eatables and superintend the housekeeping.  On the first evening, when beds, crockery, kitchen utensils, and food, all arrived in a medley from the universal provider, Wiel, great confusion reigned; and when it was at its height, just as the hospital waggon was driving up with the patients, “Creechy” sent off one of her projectiles, which burst with a deafening explosion about a hundred yards beyond the improvised hospital, having absolutely whizzed over the approaching ambulance vehicles.  The patients took it most calmly, and were in no way disconcerted.  By Herculean efforts the four ladies and myself got the place shipshape, and all was finished when the daylight failed.  As I ran back to my quarters, the bugle-call of the “Last Post,” several times repeated, sounded clear in the still atmosphere of a calm and beautiful evening, and I knew the last farewells were being said to the brave men who had gone to their long rest.  Of course Mafeking’s losses on that black Boxing Day were infinitesimal compared to those attending the terrible struggles going on in other parts of the country; but, then, it must be remembered that not only was our garrison a very small one, but also that, when people are shut up together for months in a beleaguered town—­a handful of English men and women surrounded by enemies, with even spies in their midst—­the feeling of comradeship and friendship is tremendously strengthened.  Every individual was universally known, and therefore all the town felt they had lost their own friends, and mourned them as such.

From that date for three weeks I went daily to the convalescent home.  The short journey there was not totally without risk, as the enemy, having heard of the foundry where primitive shells were being manufactured, and which was situated immediately on the road I had to take, persistently sent their missiles in this direction, and I had some exciting walks to and fro, very often alone, but sometimes accompanied by any chance visitor.  One morning Major Tracy and I had just got across the railway-line, when we heard