s it to run
when one has no place to run to?" she demanded. "As for me, I stay by
the shop and die at least respectably among my own cakes and pies. To
run through the country and die at last in a ditch--it would not suit
me at all!"

"Bravo," cried Mother Meraut triumphantly. "Just my own idea! My
children and I will remain in our home and take what comes, rather than
leap from the frying-pan into the fire as so many are doing. If every
one runs away, there will be no Rheims at all." Then to Pierre and
Pierrette she said "Choose, each of you. What shall we buy for our
supper?"

Pierre pointed a grimy finger at a small cake with pink frosting.
"That," he said briefly.

His mother smiled. "Ah, Pierre, that sweet-tooth of yours!" she cried.
"Like Marie Antoinette you think if one lacks bread one may eat cakes!
And now it is Pierrette's turn; only be quick, ma mie, for it is
already late."

"Eggs," said Pierrette promptly, "for one of your savory omelets,
mamma, and a bit of cheese."

The purchases were quickly made, and, having said good-night to Madame
Coudert, they hurried on to the little house in the Rue Charly where
they lived. When they reached home, it was already quite dark. Mother
Meraut hastened up the steps and unlocked the door, and in less time
than it takes to tell it her bonnet was off, the fire was burning, and
the omelet was cooking on the stove.

Pierrette set the table. "I'm going to place father's chair too," she
said to her mother. "He is no doubt thinking of us as we are of him,
and it will make him stem nearer."

Mother Meraut nodded her head without speaking, and wiped her eyes on
her apron as she slid the omelet on to a hot plate. Then she seated
herself opposite the empty chair and with a steady voice prayed for a
blessing upon the food and upon the Armies of France.

When they had finished supper, cleared it away, and put the kitchen in
order, Mother Meraut pointed to the clock. "Voila!" she cried, "hours
past your bedtime, and here you are still flapping about like two young
owls! To bed with you as fast as you can go."

"But, Mother," began Pierre.

"Not a single 'but,'" answered his Mother, wagging her finger at him.
"Va!"

The children knew protest was useless, and in a few minutes they were
snugly tucked away. Long after they were both sound asleep, their
Mother sat with her head bowed upon the table, listening, listening to
the distant sound of marching feet. At last, worn