He accepted her offer
eagerly, but said:
"But when you write promise me you won't tell mother about my foot. She
worries! She wouldn't understand how well off I really am. Maybe you had
better let me try to write a bit myself for you to enclose. I guess I
could manage that." So, with his left hand, he wrote the following:
Dearest Mother:--I am laid up in the hospital here with a very badly
sprained ankle and some bruises, and will be here two or three weeks. Do
not worry, I am getting along fine. Your loving Son.
Two automobiles, an open car and a limousine, were maintained in Paris
for the sole purpose of providing outings for wounded men who were able to
take a little drive. It was said by the doctors and nurses that nothing
helped a rapid recovery like these little excursions out into an every-day
beautiful world.
A boy on one of the hospital cots called to a passing lassie:
"I am going to die, I know I am, and I'm a Catholic. Can you pray for me,
Salvation Army girl, like you prayed for that fellow over there?"
The young lassie assured him that he was not going to die yet, but she
knelt by his cot and prayed for him, and soothed him into a sleep from
which he awoke refreshed to find that she was right, he was not going to
die yet, but live, perhaps, to be a different lad.
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