With Those Who Wait

coachman, clad in a dark green, gold-buttoned livery and wearing a cockade on his hat. Aunt Rose's coachman, and the Swiss at Notre Dame were classed

Italy; the horses had been sent out to the farm, where they were needed, and Joseph, fallen from the glory of his box, attired in a str

d to take the omnibus. Will Monsieu

fumbled in

ame will find man

losed shutters. At the corner of the square in front of the chateau the old vegetable vendor still sold her products seated beneath her patched red cotton parasol; the Great Dane watchdog lay in exactly the same place on

entrance to the big roomy edific

ming, the iron balconies, mingled here and there with bas-reliefs and sculptures, were in perfect harmony with the tall slanting slate roof and majestic chimneys, the

t the top of the steps. From her we soon learned that we had missed our friends the M.'s by but a day

meranian favourite, crept down fr

know he must be getting old," sm

rse, he didn't tell you-he doesn't want any one to speak of it-but he's very much upset by it. Nicholas and Armandine do nothing but worry about th

n account of the charming grisaille wall paper, dating from the end of the Empire period, and repre

those extremely chaste nude images. But at the last moment rose up the horror of voluntarily changing anything in the homestead, transformin

n to tea. We've got so many things to

t things we had seen-what America was going to do-what it had already accomplished. And with her marvellously quick understanding, her vivacious intelligen

he conversation running along the same lines, returning now and then to a c

ed how much happiness your stories will bring, and to how many people. I imagine that you haven't had muc

t Aunt Rose herself would never have recognised them had they met. And besides these people there were her friends, her servants, her farmers, possibly a group

sessed quite a fortune in farm lands. Alone in the world, with no immediate family, she had devoted herself not only to her own, but to her husband's relatives. Her home had always been the havre de grace, known and venerated by them all; a meeting place for reconciliation between persons whose self-control had escaped the

se of a great deal of ha

ame upon her early the next morning, already installed behind her huge flat-topped des

u haven't an idea the different places that I hear from. See, here are your letters from the United States. Léon is in the Indo-Chinese Bank in Oceania. Albert is mobilised at Laos, Quentin in

s and, of course, these are only the answered ones. The dear boys just love to write and not one of them

fifteen packages, all different in size and each one enveloped i

by our dear depart

e ogre or the horse, or anything one wished: a person so absolutely indispensable to their games that all the little folk used to

COMING COMMUNIQUé I

whom we dubbed "Deshonoré," because he used always to return e

up one of the s

cques." And two bright tea

t is what made him so distant and reserved. Jean, his guardian, who is very severe, used to treat him as

this old house-and I knew it. Sometimes when you would all start

oing with them

Rose, it's so nice i

h him. But he was so cold and distant! A funny little mite, even with boys of his own age. No

a change in him. He was more robust and tanned. A

fore we embraced, 'is there an

use very empty. If only I'd known you were coming

didn't! I much prefer

tside the yard. I should have loved to have taken him with me and sho

hing. 'If ever they come near me I'll tell them I've

I'd hear him pottering around.

lon" and the "Refrain de la Mitraille." It w

mchair, blinking at the fire, and then

what a pleasu

ck, he caught me and whispere

promise me not to invi

Planchet, the tinsmith, saw him fall with a bullet th

ad never shown to any one, never admitted having written. How little we guessed what he was about when we scolded him for his indolence and inattention. If you only

g, explain everything. None of us understood him. There is no use pretending we did. Not one among us

to the sun-lit court, the great

ime neither

ing patés and galantines, rillettes and sausages. "For our boys," is the answer almost before the question is

be ashamed to go out and buy something and send it off without knowing who had handled it." This was the cook's idea of patriotism, w

aled the crocks and tins, prep

after them. They must be mighty glad Madame's alive. We put in one or two post cards, vie

ted at table and eating with ravenous appetite. One was an artilleryman who had but a

dine. "The poor fellows need a little humouring so that they'

s who had just disposed of a most generous bacon

eir words when between mouthsful they would stop for breath and deign to speak. Their

e, he'll turn up!" the a

sn't writt

that correspondence is forbidden

all the authorities, and never get any returns-except now and then a card saying th

ome of the missing have been found in other regiments, or

had them say Heaven knows how many masses for the repose of my soul; for four months a

killed, or the Boche locate the mail waggon on the road every

does hap

t ever

there's nothing for you to w

ose smile gradually broadens out into a laugh when the artillery-man

e minimum of time, if régime had anything to do with the re-establishment. In

ith us," people would call

o on leaving for the front was only a second lieutenant, but now had command of a battalion of chasseurs. Nor must one forget Monsieur de P.'s son, cited for bravery among the aces, and least

are spared the spectacles of horror and desolation, but there is not a soul who for a single instant really escapes the gigantic shiver that has crept over all the world. Out here, far removed from the seat of events, life necessarily becomes se

in the morning when the paper boy announcing his approach by blowing his brass horn, runs from

women and children, old people on crutches, cripples leaning on their nurses' arms, hasten in the same direction, moved by the same anxious curiosity. When the weather is inclement one turns up his tr

whose portent may be so exhilarating or tragic. Then some one clears his thro

strategists a

nderfully lucid way of explaining all the operations that may be made in that region, while Monsieur Mo

favours a special mode of combat, and each, of course, has his fol

mism do not touch them in the least. The French soul has long since known how to r

a sturdy housewife summing up her impressions,

s an impudent

iderably diminished a group steps forward, presses around the bullet

-will and energy. But they have never taken root, patiently waiting for the day when once again they may pull out their heavy drays that brought them down here, whose axles they have never ceased to grease, just as they have always kept their magnificent horses shod and ready to h

ed comic if it hadn't been so infinitely profound and touching. "Ah, Madam

es at the front, occupied by the enemy, crushed b