ance, the coffin was placed, wrapped in a great
French flag, and covered with flowers and wreaths sent by the various
American sections. At the head a small American flag was placed, on
which was pinned the _Croix de Guerre_--a gold star on a red-and-green
ribbon--a tribute from the army general to the boy who gave his life for
France.

"A priest, with six soldier attendants, led the procession from the
courtyard. Six more soldiers bore the coffin, the Americans and
representatives of the army branches following, bearing wreaths. After
these came the General of the Army Corps, with a group of officers, and
a detachment of soldiers with arms reversed. At the foot of the hill a
second detachment fell in and joined them....

"The scene was unforgettable, beautiful and impressive. In the little
church a choir of soldiers sang and a soldier-priest played the organ,
while the Chaplain of the Army Division held the burial service. The
chaplain's sermon I have asked to have reproduced and sent to you,
together with other effects of your son's....

"The chaplain spoke most beautifully and at length, telling very
tenderly what it meant to the French people that an American should give
his life while trying to help them in the hour of their extremity. The
name of this chaplain is Henri Deligny, _Aumonier Militaire_, Ambulance
16-27, Sector 112; and he was assisted by the permanent cure of the
little church, Abbe Blondelle, who wishes me to assure you that he will
guard most reverently your son's grave, and be there to receive you when
the day may come that you shall wish to visit it.

"After leaving the church the procession marched to the military
cemetery, where your son's body was laid beside the hundreds of others
who have died for France. Both the lieutenant and general here paid
tributes of appreciation, which I will have sent to you. The general,
various officers of the army, and ambulance assisted in the last
rites....

"I have brought back and will send you the _Croix de Guerre_...."

* * *

Oh, but you couldn't read any further--for the great lump of pride in
your throat, the thick mist of tears in your eyes. A sob escaped the
boy. He looked over at Maw and saw the miraculous. Maw was awake at last
and crying--a new-fledged pulsating Maw emerged from the brown chrysalis
of her sorrows.

"Oh, Maw!... Our Nat!... All that--that--funeral!... Some funeral, Maw!"
The boy choked.

"My Nat!" Maw was saying. "Buried