s ancient and beautiful home.

The waste and confusion of war troubled Sally as it does all women. So
hard it is to see why destruction is necessary to the growth and
development of human history!

Wondering what had become of the French family who formerly had lived in
the chateau before the outbreak of the war, Sally walked up closer to
the ruins. From a space between two walls, forming an insecure arch, a
bird darted out into the daylight. Not ordinarily influenced by the
beauties of nature or by unexpected expressions of her moods,
nevertheless Sally uttered a cry of enchantment.

Between the walls she had spied the ruins of an old French drawing room.
The bird must have flown through the opening into the room and then
quickly out again into the sunshine.

A little table remained standing with an open book upon it, laid face
down. There was a rug on the floor, now thick with mould, and yet it was
a rare Aubusson rug with sturdy cupids trailing flowery vines across its
surface. There were pieces of broken furniture and bric-a-brac strewn
over the floor.

Sally must have continued staring inside the room for several moments
before she slowly became aware that there was a human figure seated in a
chair in the shadow near one of the half fallen walls.

The figure was that of a young soldier. He was asleep when Sally
discovered him and incredibly dirty. His hair was long and matted,
hanging thick over his forehead. One arm was wrapped in a soiled
bandage.

Yet Sally did not feel frightened, only faint and ill for an instant
from pity.

Coming to their farm house after a few days in Paris, Sally had seen
trains filled with wounded soldiers. In Paris she also had noticed
blinded and invalided men being led along the streets by their families
or friends, yet never so piteous a figure as this.

CHAPTER IX

A MYSTERY

Sally's little cry of astonishment must have awakened the soldier.

The terror on his face when he first beheld her took away any thought of
fear from the girl. Besides it was all too strange! Why should he, a
soldier, be afraid, and of her? And why should he be in hiding in this
queer tumble-down old place? For he _was_ in hiding, there was no
doubt of this from his furtive manner.

Some instinct in Sally, or perhaps the fact that she had seen so much
hunger since her arrival in this portion of France, made her immediately
take out her little package of bread which Mere 'Toinette had gi