a cup of hot coffee, Madame Guix and I
repaired to the kitchen as dawn broke, and an hour later we bade
farewell to our "lodgers for a night." I bethought me of my kodak, and
as the sun peeped through the clouds I caught a snapshot of my departing
guests as they turned the corner of the chateau.

They joined in behind the stream of other carts which we were now
accustomed to seeing. In fact, this general exodus no longer astonished
us. It seemed as if the panic had spread over the whole of Flanders
like a drop of oil on a sheet of paper. To us, who consider ourselves
as living in the suburbs of Paris, Belgium is so far away!

I wound off my film and was returning towards the house, when two very
distinguished looking girls stepped off their bicycles and asked for
directions. I gave them with pleasure and in turn ventured a few
questions.

They were from St. Quentin! That startled me. They had been _en route_
two days. They had not seen the Germans, but the town had been
officially evacuated. A man on a bicycle had sped by them the day
before and announced the bombardment and destruction of their native
city! Hard fighting at La Fere.

St. Quentin! Then the Germans were on our soil! The Belgians were
right--they were evidently advancing rapidly. But why worry? We were
safe as long as we had the French army between us and them.

Thought as yet the day was but a couple of hours old, I was weary. This
business of hotel-keeping on so large it scale with so little
assistance was beginning to tell on my strength. I opened the gate and
told George and Leon to welcome any who wished to come in, and then
repairing to the kitchen, I sat down and began helping the others
prepare vegetables. The discovery that in spite of all their good will
guests had necessarily left many traces of their passage, brought me to
my feet again, and we were all hard at work when a haggard female face
looked in at the kitchen window.

"Is there a doctor here?"

"No,--but--"

The woman burst into tears. Madame Guix and I hurried out into the
court. "My baby--I can't seem to warm her," moaned the poor mother.
"She hasn't eaten anything since yesterday."

And stretching out her arms, the woman showed us an infant that she had
been carrying in her apron. It was dead.

I had difficulty in overcoming my emotion, but Madame Guix took the poor
little corpse into her arms, and I helped the mother to an arm chair in
the refectory.