One day a
lady was wheeling her two babies in a mail-cart up and down the wide
road, while the Boers were busily shelling a distant part of the
defences. The children clapped their hands when they heard the peculiar
siren and whistle of the quick-firing Krupp shells, followed by dull
thuds, as they buried themselves in the ground. On my suggesting to her
that it was not a very favourable time to air the children, she agreed,
and said that her husband had just told her to go home, which she
proceeded leisurely to do. Another morning the cattle near the convent
were being energetically shelled, and later I happened to see the Mother
Superior, and commiserated with her in having been in such a hot corner.
"Ah, shure!" said the plucky Irish lady, "the shells were dhroppin' all
round here; but they were only nine-pounders, and we don't take any
notice of them at all." No words can describe the cheerful, patient
behaviour of those devoted Sisters through the siege. They bore
uncomplainingly all the hardships and discomforts of a flooded
bomb-proof shelter, finally returning to their ruined home with any
temporary makeshifts to keep out the rain; and whereas, from overwork
and depression of spirits, some folks were at times a little difficult
to please, not a word of complaint during all those months ever came
from the ladies of the convent.
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