ricia, how did you ever manage to acquire such
valuable possessions?" Mrs. Burton demanded.

"By ordering them shipped from my own farm in Massachusetts a month or
more before we sailed for France and then by forwarding my address to
the proper persons after we landed here," Miss Patricia answered calmly.
Ignoring any further assistance, she began opening a box which was
filled with grain.

"I presume other things have arrived for me as well, Mary Gilchrist?"
Miss Patricia questioned.

Mary nodded and laughed. She looked very fetching in her motor driver's
costume of khaki with the short skirt and trousers and the Norfolk
jacket belted in military fashion. On her hair, which had ruddy red
brown lights in it, she wore a small military hat deeply dented in the
center.

"Goodness gracious, Aunt Patricia, dozens of things!" she replied. "You
must have chartered an entire steamer to bring over your gifts to the
French nation. Best of all, there are two beautiful cows waiting for you
in Soissons at this moment. I could not bring them in the motor, nor did
I dare invite them to amble along behind my car. But I have arranged
with an old man in the town to escort the cows out to our place
tomorrow, or as soon as possible."

No one did anything but stare at Miss Patricia for the next few seconds.

Whether or not this condition of affairs made her unusually
self-conscious, or whatever the reason, finally she rested from her
labor of opening boxes to gaze first at Mrs. Burton and then slowly from
one girl's face to the other's.

"I don't mean to add to your burdens by asking any one of you to assist
me in running my farm," she began in a tone which might have been
considered apologetic had it emanated from any one than Aunt Patricia.
"I intend to find an old man to help and to do the rest myself."

Then a peculiar expression crossed the rugged old face.

"You see, I was raised on a tiny farm in Ireland and used sometimes to
know what it meant to be hungry until my brother came over to the United
States and made a fortune in ways I am more or less ashamed to remember.
I have been telling Polly Burton that I crossed over to France because I
wished to look after her and also to help her care for you girls. But
that was not the whole truth. I think I came largely because I could not
sleep in my bed of nights knowing how many old people and babies there
were in this devil-ridden portion of France who were hungry. Oh, there
ar