nt d'Aurillac look after the honor of his wife himself."

The charming Thierry laughed at her mockingly.

"He means to," he said. "I am the Count d'Aurillac!"

THE DESERTER

In Salonika, the American consul, the Standard Oil man, and the war
correspondents formed the American colony. The correspondents were
waiting to go to the front. Incidentally, as we waited, the front was
coming rapidly toward us. There was "Uncle" Jim, the veteran of many
wars, and of all the correspondents, in experience the oldest and in
spirit the youngest, and there was the Kid, and the Artist. The Kid
jeered at us, and proudly described himself as the only Boy Reporter
who jumped from a City Hall assignment to cover a European War. "I
don't know strategy," he would boast; "neither does the Man at Home.
He wants 'human interest' stuff, and I give him what he wants. I write
exclusively for the subway guard and the farmers in the wheat belt.
When you fellows write about the 'Situation,' they don't understand it.
Neither do you. Neither does Venizelos or the King. I don't
understand it myself. So, I write my people heart-to-heart talks about
refugees and wounded, and what kind of ploughs the Servian peasants
use, and that St. Paul wrote his letters to the Thessalonians from the
same hotel where I write mine; and I tell 'em to pronounce Salonika
'eeka,' and not put the accent on the 'on.' This morning at the
refugee camp I found all the little Servians of the Frothingham unit in
American Boy Scout uniforms. That's my meat. That's 'home week'
stuff. You fellows write for the editorial page; and nobody reads it.
I write for the man that turns first to Mutt and Jeff, and then looks
to see where they are running the new Charlie Chaplin release. When
that man has to choose between 'our military correspondent' and the
City Hall Reporter, he chooses me!"

The third man was John, "Our Special Artist." John could write a news
story, too, but it was the cartoons that had made him famous. They
were not comic page, but front page cartoons, and before making up
their minds what they thought, people waited to see what their Artist
thought. So, it was fortunate his thoughts were as brave and clean as
they were clever. He was the original Little Brother to the Poor. He
was always giving away money. When we caught him, he would prevaricate.
He would say the man was a college chum, that he had borrowed the money
from him, and that