I know my room waiter kept watch on me until he satisfied himself I was what I claimed to be--an American--and not an English spy posing as an American.
So, at first, did the cheery little girl cashier in the Arcade barber shop downstairs.

For all I know, she may still have me under suspicion and be making daily reports on me to the secret-service people.

The women help, too--and the children.

The wives and daughters of the wealthiest men in the town are minding the sick and the wounded.

The mothers and the younger girls meet daily to make hospital supplies.
Women come to you in the cafes at night, wearing Red Cross badges on their left arms, and shaking sealed tin canisters into which you are expected to drop contributions for invalided soldiers.
Since so many of their teachers are carrying rifles or wearing swords, the pupils of the grammar schools and the high schools are being organized into squads of crop-gatherers.