s come true--or perhaps hasn't come
true--they will look back on France with real affection and with a
little sense of ownership; and they will think of even their
discomforts with pleasure. This has been their big adventure; but
since they are not bent just now upon reading the book of their own
lives, they don't know it.

Paris, May 11th, 1919.

Another shift of scene. Oh, what a change it is! Back to Paris! back
to the world, some might say, but--deserted by my family who are now
joyously on the water going home. Gone are those happy, remarkable
days in darling Pouillenay, gone my beloved Battalion of khaki-clad
boys, and left behind is the peaceful, beautiful countryside of the
Cote d'Or with its white cattle on the green hills, its ducks and its
chickens, its skylarks, and its dear population in sabots.

It has been impossible to send you anything but postal cards the last
few weeks because I have been so busy. Also the 78th's post office
was disorganized owing to preparations for moving, so I must go back
a long way if I am to give you any idea of what has been happening.
Let's see.

The day before Easter the sun came out. Sergeant R. and I went out to
gather flowers for Easter decorations for the tent. The fields were
covered, fairly sparkling, with little yellow primroses too pretty for
words. And in the wet places were masses of delicate lavender flowers.
Brooks gurgling, sprays of wild fruit blossoms in the hedges,
everything juicy and green and radiant. After weeks of rain the sun
had actually broken forth to glorify it all. We filled baskets with a
feathery mixture of gold and lavender, this sweet-natured, devoted boy
and myself, and we had a good time.

The next morning, Easter Day, I was up very early, and by breakfast
time the tent was a perfect bower of flowers. It was really lovely.
And the surprise and pleasure of the boys! "Seems as though we was
back home!" "I forgot all about its being Easter!" "Say, I never
thought we could _have_ Easter in France!" And one boy who kept
hanging round all day taking it all in, said, "What'd you go to all
that trouble for? It's no use doing that over here." Yet he was back
every morning to watch me arrange the flowers, for I kept them always
in the tent after that, and the little French children would bring me
fresh ones.

On Easter morning an open air memorial service had been planned in
honor of those in the Battalion