ing them as
honoured guests! She, Anna, knew that the women of Belgium had put out
the eyes of wounded German soldiers; she had read the fact in one of the
German newspapers Mr. Head had managed to smuggle through. The paper had
said, very truly, as she thought, that no punishment for such conduct
could be too severe.

And as she sat there, on this melancholy anniversary afternoon, thinking
sad, bitter thoughts, her dear young lady opened the door.

"I had a letter from Mr. Blake this morning, and I think you'll like to
read it, Anna! He speaks in it so kindly of some German soldiers who
gave themselves up. I haven't time to stop and read it to you now. But I
think you can read it, for he writes very, very clearly. This is where
it begins----" she pointed half-way down the first sheet. "I shan't be
back till eight o'clock. There's a great deal to do if, as Sir Jacques
believes, some wounded are really likely to arrive to-morrow." Her face
shadowed, and that of the old woman looking fondly up at her, softened.

"There's a little piece of beautiful cold mutton," exclaimed Anna in
German. "Would my darling child like that for her supper--with a nice
little potato salad as well?"

But Rose shook her head. "No, I don't feel as if I want any meat. I'll
have anything else there is, and some fruit."

A moment later she was gone, and Anna turned to the closely-written
sheets of paper with great interest. She read English writing with
difficulty, but, as her beloved young lady had said truly, Mr. Blake's
handwriting was very clear. And this is what she spelled out:

"A great big motor lorry came up, full of prisoners, and our
fellows soon crowded round it. They were fine, upstanding,
fair men, and looked very tired and depressed--as well they
might, for we hear they've had hardly anything to eat this
last week! I offered one of them, who had his arm bound up, a
cigarette. He took it rather eagerly. I thought I'd smoke one
too, to put him at his ease, but I had no matches, so the poor
chap hooked out some from his pocket and offered me one. This
is a funny world, Rose! Fancy those thirteen German prisoners
in that motor lorry, and that they were once--in fact only an
hour or so ago--doing their best to kill us, while now we are
doing our best to cheer them up. Then to-morrow we shall go
out and have a good try at killing their comrades. Mind you,
they loo