a French phrase-book. The short
man, called Jim, was gesticulating wildly, and talking to Mother
Meraut, and she, good soul, looked so wise, and said "Oui" and "Non,"
and nodded her head so intelligently to encourage him, that he never
suspected that she did not understand one word in ten, and cast
triumphant glances at the tall man to see if he was observing his
success.

At this moment a French Captain came by. The men sprang to their feet,
clicked their heels together, and saluted. Father Meraut stiffened into
military position and saluted also. The officer returned the salute,
then stopped and spoke to him. "You are a soldier of France, I see," he
said. "Where did you get your wound?"

"With Joffre, at the Marne, mon Capitaine," answered Father Meraut,
proudly. And then he told the Captain of his being brought wounded to
the Cathedral in Rheims, of its bombardment and burning, and of his
rescue by Pierre and Pierrette.

The Captain turned to the Americans and said to them in English: "We
have here three heroes of France instead of one! These children have
lived under constant fire since last September, and they rescued their
wounded father from the burning Cathedral of Rheims at the risk of
their own lives." The Americans saluted Father Meraut, then they
saluted Pierre and Pierrette, while Mother Meraut stood by, beaming
with pride.

"We will ask them to dine with us as our guests," said the Captain,
and, turning to Father Meraut, he spoke again in French. "This is the
Foreign Legion," he said. "It is made up of friends of France, brave
men of different countries who came voluntarily to fight with us
against the Boche. Here they receive special training under French
officers before going to the front. These Americans have only just
come. They do not know much French, but they wish you to dine with
them."

Ah, what a day that was for Pierre and Pierrette! Their story was
passed about from one to another, and, instead of being homeless,
wandering refugees, they found themselves suddenly treated as
distinguished guests, by real soldiers. Pierre swelled with pride, and
if he had only been able to speak their language, how glad he would
have been to tell the Americans about the return of the French to
Rheims, the green poster, Madame Coudert, and many other things! Alas,
he could only eat his soup and gaze about him at all the activities
that were going on in camp. When at last it was time for them to go, it
was