The War-Workers - Tapa blanda

Book may have numerous typos, missing text, images, or index. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. 1918. Not illustrated. Excerpt: ... * ' ~T ATHER strange, isn't it?" said Miss Delmege in r% tones of weak despondency. "If it hadn't been for this wretched flu, / should have been going out to Plessing every day with the work, I suppose, as Gracie is doing now." "Yes, I suppose you would," agreed Miss Henderson blankly. She sat on the foot of the bed, which was surrounded by a perfect wilderness of screens. Miss Delmege reclined against two pillows, screwed against her back at an uncomfortable-looking angle. The room was not warmed, and the invalid wore a small flannel dressingjacket, rather soiled and very much crumpled, a loosely knitted woolly jersey of dingy appearance and an ugly mustard colour, and over everything else an old quilted pink dressinggown, with a cotton-wool-like substance bursting from the cuffs and elbows. Her hair was pinned up carelessly, and her expression was a much dejected one. Miss Henderson was knitting in a spasmodic way, and stopping every now and then to blow her nose violently. She had several times during the afternoon ejaculated vehemently that a cold wasn't flu, she was thankful to say. "It's probably the beginning of it, though," Miss Delmege replied pessimistically. "You're hipped, Delmege, that's what you are -- regularly hipped. Now, don't you think it would do you good to come downstairs for tea? There's a fire in the sitting-room." "Well, I don't mind if I do. It'll seem quite peculiar to be downstairs again. Fancy, I've been up here five whole days! And I'm really not a person to give way, as a rule. At least, not so far as I know, I'm not." "It's nearly four now. Look here, I'll put a kettle on, and you can have some hot water." "Thanks, dear," said Miss Delmege graciously, " but don't bother. My hot-water bottle is still quite warm. I can use that." "All r...