"My heart goes out, Uncle, to those poor victims of the war's cruelty, the wounded and dying.

I wish I could do something to help them!" Uncle John moved uneasily in his chair.

Then he laid down his paper and applied himself to his breakfast.

But his usual merry expression had faded into one of thoughtfulness.
"The wounded haunt me by day and night," went on Beth.

"There are thousands upon thousands of them, left to suffer terrible pain--perhaps to die--on the spot where they fell, and each one is dear to some poor woman who is ignorant of her loved one's fate and can do nothing but moan and pray at home." "That's the hard part of it," said Patsy, her cousin.