you see him?"

"Yes."

"Where was he?"

"In front of a cafe as we drove past."

"Oh, the old villain! The wretch! Oh, _mon Dieu,_ what shall we do!
Oh, the wicked old man--if I had him here, I'd thrash him good!"

And mother Poupard began brandishing a pitch-fork with such violence
that I commenced to fear that failing her delinquent spouse, she would
fall upon George to wreak vengeance.

"Oh, the old devil! Oh--"

"Look here, I'm not his nurse--now clear out, the lot of you!"

The injunction served its purpose, for remembering they were "not at
home," the two women retired in high dudgeon, wailing and lamenting in
such audible tones that their neighbors came out to see what was the
matter, and laughed at mother Poupard's threat of what she would do if
ever she got _le vieux_ into her clutches.

By six A. M. on the Friday I had breakfasted and was ready to leave for
Soissons. The taxi from the Hotel du Balcon made its appearance a few
moments later, and after a visit to the town hall, where we secured the
necessary passports, we set off on our journey.

At the entrance to every little village we were obliged to halt and
exhibit our papers--after which formality the chain would be let down
and we allowed to go our way.

Half an hour later as we crossed Chateau Thierry we could see the rows
of horses that had not yet been examined lined up along the square. The
commissaries had worked all night and their task was still far from
finished.

Until we reached Oulchy-le-Chateau, the chains were the only outward
signs that betokened the belligerent state of the country, and even then
as those who mounted guard were not in uniform, it seemed rather as
though we were passing a series of toll-gates. However, as we ran along
the splendid roads between the great fertile plains, I observed that the
harvesting was being done chiefly by women, and that the roads
themselves were empty of any vehicle. Evidently only those who had an
important errand were allowed on the _routes nationals_, thus kept clear
for the transport of troops or ammunition.

At Oulchy, half-way to Soissons, we halted at a railway crossing to let
a long, lazy train drag out of the station. When at length the bars
were drawn up, much excitement reigned on the little platform which we
had been unable to see from the other side of the rails. Young girls
with pails and dippers in their hands stood chattering with women in
wrappers, whose disheve