u are as brave as a man!"

"Pooh!" said Mother Meraut, mockingly. "As if the men, bless their
hearts, were so much braver than women, anyway! Oh, la! la! the conceit
of you!" She wagged a derisive finger at the Verger, and, calling the
children, went to get her scrubbing-pail and brushes.

All day long, while distant guns roared, she went about her daily
tasks, keeping one spot of order and cleanliness in the midst of the
confusion, disorder, and destruction of the invaded city. The Twins
were busy, too; their Mother saw to that. They dusted chairs and placed
them in rows; and at noon they found a corner where the light falling
through one of the beautiful stained-glass windows made a spot of
cheerful color in the gloom, and there they ate part of the lunch which
they had packed in the wicker basket. During all the excitement of the
morning they had not forgotten the lunch!

When the day's work was done, they ventured out upon the streets in the
gathering dusk. They found them full of German soldiers, drinking,
swaggering, singing, and they saw many strange and terrifying sights in
the havoc wrought by the first bombardment. As they passed the door of
Madame Coudert's shop, they peeped in and saw her sitting stolidly
behind the counter, knitting.

"Oh," said Pierrette, "doesn't it seem like a year since we were here
this morning?"

Mother Meraut called out a cheerful greeting to Madame Coudert. "Still
in your place, I see," she said.

"Like the Pyramids," came the calm answer; and, cheered by her
fortitude, they hurried on their way to the little house in the Rue
Charly.

Mother Meraut sighed with relief as she unlocked the door. "Everything
just as we left it," she said. "We at least shall have one more night
in our own home." Then she drew the children into the shelter of the
dear, familiar roof and locked the door from the inside.

IV. THE RETURN OF THE FRENCH

One unhappy day followed upon another for the inhabitants of Rheims.
Each night they went to bed in terror; each morning they rose to face
new trials and dangers. Yet their spirit did not fail. Each day the
roar of guns toward the west grew fainter and more distant, and the
people knew with sinking hearts that the Germans had driven the Armies
of France farther and farther back toward Paris. Each day the conduct
of the conquerors grew more arrogant. "Our Emperor will soon be in
Paris!" they said.

On the public monuments and in the squares of