n keeping with their new roles, when a
commissariat wagon entered the yard. A Bavarian corporal did not trouble
to open the door in the ordinary way. He smashed the latch with his
shoulder. "Why is this door closed?" he demanded fiercely.

"Monsieur----" began Joos.

"Speak German, you swine!"

"I forgot the order, Herr Kaporal. As you see, it was only on the
latch."

"Don't let it happen again. Load the first wagon with hay and the second
with flour. While you're at it, these women can cook us a meal. Where do
you keep your wine?"

"Everything will be put on the table, _mons_--Herr Kaporal."

"None of your lip!--Here, you, the pretty one, show me the
wine-cupboard. I'll make my own selection. We Bavarians are famous
judges of good wine and pretty women, let me tell you."

The corporal's wit was highly appreciated by the squad of four men who
accompanied him. They had all been drinking. It is a notable fact that
during the early days of the invasion of Belgium and France--in effect,
while wine and brandy were procurable by theft--the army which boasts
the strictest discipline of any in the world was unquestionably the most
drunken that has ever waged successful war.

Irene was "the pretty one" chosen as guide by this hulking connoisseur,
but she knew how to handle boors of his type.

"You must not talk in that style to a girl from Berlin," she said icily.
"You and your men will take what is given you, or I'll find your
_oberleutnant_, and hear what he has to say about it."

She spoke purposely in perfect German, and the corporal was vastly
surprised.

"Pardon, _gnaediges Fraeulein_," he mumbled with a clumsy bow. "I no
offence meant. We will within come when the meal is ready. About--turn!"
The enemy was routed.

The miller and his man worked hard until dusk. The fat officer turned
up, and lost no opportunity of ogling the two girls. He handed Joos a
payment docket, which, he explained grandiloquently, would be honoured
by the military authorities in due course. Joos pocketed the document
with a sardonic grin. There was some fifteen thousand francs' worth of
grain and forage stored on the premises, and he did not expect to see a
centime of hard cash from the Germans, unless, as he whispered grimly to
Dalroy, they were forced to pay double after the war. Meanwhile the
place was gutted. Wagon after wagon came empty and went away loaded.

Driblets of news were received. The passage of the Meuse had been
ac