Piper. It's kindness he's famous for, as well as
courage, so I'm sure we may call."

Near the beautiful old cathedral we passed a priest, and asked him where
to find the bishop's house. "You need not go so far; here he comes," was
the answer. We looked over our shoulders, almost guiltily, and there
indeed he was. He had been in the cathedral with two French officers,
and in another instant the trio would have turned a corner. Our look and
the priest's gesture told the bishop that we were speaking of him. He
paused, and Mr. Beckett jumped out of the stopped car, agile as a boy in
his excitement.

"Oh, I forgot, I can't talk French! Mary, you must see me through!" he
pleaded.

I hurried to the rescue, and together we walked up to the bishop. Off
came Mr. Beckett's hat; and both officers saluted us. One was a general,
the other a colonel.

If I'd had time to rehearse, I might have done myself some credit. As it
was, I stammered out some sort of explanation and introduced Jim's
father.

"I remember young Monsieur Beckett," the bishop said. "He was not one to
be forgotten! Besides, he was generous to Meaux. He left a noble present
for our poor. And now, you say, he has given his life for France? What
is there I can do to prove our gratitude? You have come to Meaux because
of his letters? Wait a few minutes, till these brave messieurs have
gone, and I myself will show you the cathedral. Oh, you need not fear!
It will be a pleasure."

He was as good as his word, and better. Not only did he show the
splendid Gothic cathedral, pride of the "fair Ile-de-France," but the
bishop's house as well. Bossuet had lived there, the most famous bishop
Meaux had in the past. It was dramatic to enter his study, guided by the
most famous bishop of the present; to see in such company the room where
Bossuet penned his denunciation of the Protestants, and then the long
avenue of yews where he used to walk in search of inspiration. We saw
his tomb, too--in the cathedral (yes, I believe Brian saw it more
clearly than we!), one of those grand tombs they gave prelates in the
days of Louis XIV: and when the Becketts had followed Jim's example in
generosity, we bade adieu to the--oh, _ever_ so much kindlier heir of
the great controversialist. I'm afraid, to tell the truth, the little
old lady cared more to know that her Jim's favourite cheese--Brie--was
made in Meaux, than anything else in the town's history. Nevertheless,
she listened with a