WHERE THE WOMEN WAIT
“CAN* I HAVE NEWS?” In Horse Guards avenu© all tiro meaning of war smites home to the Londoner. Despite two boldly printed notices on the War Office entrance it is here where the women wait. One notice say* that information is sent direct to the next-of-kin 1 of all officers and men as early tvs possible after the receipt oi each casualty list. Tho other says: "Til© names of the non-commissioned officers and men killed, wounded, and missing have not yet been received.” Hut still the women wait. . Some trail nearly all tho hot day ; some wait an hour or two and go away; some come again and again in unappeasable anxiety • but most of them edge up to the kindly liveried doorkeeper's, ask their fruitless question, and then go awy, It is mostly the one great question, “ Can I have new© of my man?” ‘‘Can I know if my boy is all right?” Trembling fingers hold out a .scrap of paper, trembling lips quiver a no mo that is all on© woman'a round oof this world. Gently and kindly the official answers them. Ho repeats tha printed words cf the totioee—he whispers to many a hungry ear, Just you go home, mother, and cheer yourself up. So long as you haven’t a telegram—why, no news is good news !” War —as ever—comes hardest on the women. Full hearts make mute tongues, hut some of the women dnw together. Heaven perhaps listens to what they say of the sceptred author of the agonies of all tho humble of Europe.
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WHERE THE WOMEN WAIT, Evening Star, Issue 15657, 23 November 1914