The
Belgian driver rushed for the door, slammed it shut because of the
shells, opened it again. He ran to the car, cranked it, turned it
around. We stood in the doorway and waited, watching the shells dropping
with a wail, tearing up the road here, then there. After that we moved
back to La Panne.
[Illustration: POSTCARDS SKETCHED AND BLOCKED BY A BELGIAN WORKMAN, A.
VAN DOORNE.
Belgium suffering, but united, is the idea he brings out in his work.]
There I stayed on with Miss Georgie Fyfe, who is doing such excellent
work among the Belgian refugees. She is chief of the evacuation of
civilians who still remain in the bombarded villages and farms. She
brings the old and the sick and the children out of shell fire and finds
them safe homes. To the Refugee House she takes the little ones to be
cared for till there are fifty. Then she sends them to Switzerland,
where brothers and sisters are kept unseparated in family groups until
the war is over. The Queen busies herself with these children. For the
newest generation of Belgians Miss Fyfe has established a Maternity
Hospital. Nearly one hundred babies have come to live there.
It was my work to keep track of clothes and supplies. On a flying trip
to Paris, I told the American Relief Committee the story of this work,
and Geoffrey Dodge sent thirty complete layettes, bran-new, four big
cases, four gunny-sack bags, full of clothing for men, women, and
children, special brands of milk for young mothers in our maternity
hospital.
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