



Produced by Laura McDonald (http://www.girlebooks.com) &
Marc D'Hooghe (http://www.freeliterature.org) (From images
generously made available by the Internet Archive)





THE WAR-WORKERS

BY

E.M. DELAFIELD

Author of "Zella Sees Herself"

William Heinemann

London

1918




To

J. A. S.

A very small token of innumerable bonds of union




Author's Foreword

The "Midland Supply Depot" of _The War-Workers_ has no
counterpart in real life, and the scenes and characters
described are also purely imaginary.

   E.M. Delafield




I


At the Hostel for Voluntary Workers, in Questerham, Miss Vivian,
Director of the Midland Supply Depot, was under discussion that evening.

Half a dozen people, all of whom had been working for Miss Vivian ever
since ten o'clock that morning, as they had worked the day before and
would work again the next day, sat in the Hostel sitting-room and talked
about their work and about Miss Vivian.

No one ever talked anything but "shop," either in the office or at the
Hostel.

"Didn't you think Miss Vivian looked awfully tired today?"

"No wonder, after Monday night. You know the train wasn't in till past
ten o'clock. I think those troop-trains tire her more than anything."

"She doesn't have to cut cake and bread-and-butter and sandwiches for
two hours before the train gets in, though. I've got the usual blister
today," said an anaemic-looking girl of twenty, examining her
forefinger.

There was a low scoffing laugh from her neighbour.

"Miss Vivian cutting bread-and-butter! She does quite enough without
that, Henderson. She had the D.G.V.O. in there yesterday afternoon for
ages. I thought he was _never_ going. I stood outside her door for half
an hour, I should think, absolutely hung up over the whole of my work,
and I knew she was fearfully busy herself."

"It's all very well for you, Miss Delmege-you're her secretary and work
in her room, but _we_ can't get at her unless we're sent for. I simply
didn't know what to do about those surgical supplies for the Town
Hospital this morning, and Miss Vivian never sent for me till past
eleven o'clock. It simply wasted half my morning."

"She didn't have a minute; the telephone was going the whole time," said
Miss Delmege quickly. "But yesterday, you know, when the D.G.V.O.
wouldn't go, I thought she was going to be late at the station for that
troop-train, and things were fairly desperate, so what d'you suppose I
did?"

"Dashed into her room and got your head snapped off?" some one suggested
languidly. "I shall never forget one day last week when _I_ didn't know
which way to _turn_, we were so busy, and I went in without being sent
for, and Miss Vivian--"

"Oh yes, I remember," said Miss Delmege rapidly. She was a tall girl
with eyeglasses and a superior manner. She did not remember Miss Marsh's
irruption into her chief's sanctum with any particular clearness, but
she was anxious to finish her own anecdote. "But as _I_ was telling
you," she hurried on, affecting to be unaware that Miss Marsh and her
neighbour were exchanging glances, "when I saw that it was getting later
every minute, and the D.G.V.O. seemed rooted to the spot, I simply went
straight downstairs and rang up Miss Vivian on the telephone. Miss Cox
was on telephone duty, and she was absolutely horrified. She said, 'You
_don't_ mean to say you're going to ring up Miss Vivian,' she said; and
I said, 'Yes, I am. Yes, I am,' I said, and I did it. Miss Cox simply
couldn't get over it."

Miss Delmege paused to laugh in solitary enjoyment of her story.

"'Who's there?' Miss Vivian said-you know what she's like when she's in
a hurry. 'It's Miss Delmege,' I said. 'I thought you might want to know
that the train will be in at eight o'clock, Miss Vivian, and it's
half-past seven now.' She just said 'Thank you,' and rang off; but she
must have told the D.G.V.O., because he came downstairs two minutes
later. And she simply flung on her hat and dashed down into the car and
to the station."

"And, after all, the train wasn't in till past ten, so she might just as
well have stayed to put her hat on straight," said Miss Henderson
boldly. She had a reputation for being "downright" of which she was
aware, and which she strenuously sought to maintain by occasionally
making small oblique sallies at Miss Vivian's expense.

"I must say it was most awfully crooked. I noticed it myself," said a
pretty little giggling girl whom the others always called Tony, because
her surname was Anthony. "How killing," I thought