ier. A few of the young women who dared to look up
watched the two as they cut across a field and, whispering, some said
her lot would be worse than she suspected--that her arrest was only a
ruse.... They came nearer to the truth in that than they knew.

Others spoke enviously, saying that, whatever befell her, at least she
would have a little rest. The more bold among them continued to steal
covert glances as the two went across the field, and fell to work again
with a better submission, noticing the overbearing demeanor of the
brutal young officer who had arrested their companion.

"You are come again," she finally said timidly; "like ze good genii." It
was difficult for her to speak, but Tom was willing for her to cry and
seem agitated, for they were coming to houses now, where crippled
soldiers sat about and children scurried, frightened, out of their path
and called their mothers who came out to stare.

"My father--I may not yet talk----"

"Yes, you can talk now. I know all about it."

"Everything you know--you are wonderful. He told us how ze zheneral, he
say, '_Lafayette, we are here!_' And now you are here----"

"I told you you could sing the _Marseillaise_ again," he said simply.
"When we get over there, you can."

"You have come before zem, even," she said, her voice breaking with
emotion. "I cannot speak, you see, but some day ze Americans, zey will
be here, and you are here ze first----"

"Don't try to talk," he said huskily. "Over in America we have girl
scouts--kind of. They call 'em Camp Fire Girls. Some people make fun of
'em, but they can climb and they don't scream when they get in a boat,
and they ain't afraid of the woods, and they don't care if it rains, and
they ain't a-scared of noises, and all like that. You got to be one of
them tonight. You got to be just like a feller--kind of. Even if you're
tired you got to stick it out--just like France is doing."

"I am ze daughter of France," she said proudly, catching his meaning,
"and you have come like America. Before, in Leteur, I was afraid. No
more am I afraid. I will be ziss fiery camp girl--so!"

"Not fiery camp girl," said Tom dully; "Camp Fire Girl."

"So! I will be zat!"

"And tomorrow we'll be in Switzerland. And soon as we get across I'm
going to make you sing the _Marseillaise_, so's when I get to
Frenchy--Armand--I can tell him you sang it and nobody stopped you. You
remember the other feller that was with me. He says we're goi