e edge of the sidewalk, he
made the sign of the cross and raised his hand in blessing, as the
troops went by.

For a time Mother Van Hove and the children ran along the sidewalk,
trying to keep pace with the soldiers, but their quick strides were too
much for the Twins, and it was not long before Marie said,
breathlessly, "My legs are too short! I can't run so fast!"

"I can't too!" gasped Jan. Mother Van Hove stopped short at once, and
the three stood still, hand in hand, and watched the soldiers until
they turned a corner and disappeared from sight through the Antwerp
gate of the city.

They were quite alone, for the other women and children had gone no
farther than the armory, and were already on their homeward way to
Meer. Now for the first time Mother Van Hove gave way to grief, and Jan
and Marie wept with her; but it was only for a moment. Then she wiped
her eyes, and the Twins' too, on her apron, and said firmly: "Come, my
lambs! Tears will not bring him back! We must go home now as fast as we
can. There is need there for all that we can do! You must be the man of
the house now, my Janke, and help me take your father's place on the
farm; and Marie must be our little house-mother. We must be as brave as
soldiers, even though we cannot fight."

"I think I could be braver if I had some breakfast," sobbed Janke.

Mother Van Hove struck her hands together in dismay. "I never once
thought of food!" she cried, "and I haven't a red cent with me! We
cannot buy a breakfast! We must just go hungry until we get home! But
soldiers must often go hungry, my little ones. We must be as brave as
they. Come, now. I will be the captain! Forward march!"

Jan and Marie stiffened their little backs, as she gave the word of
command, and, shoulder to shoulder, they marched down the street toward
the city gate to the martial refrain, "Le Roi, la loi, la liberte,"
which Mother Van Hove hummed for them under her breath.

It was a long way back to the little farm-house, and when at last the
three weary pilgrims reached it, they were met by an indignant chorus
of protests from all the creatures which had been left behind. Bel was
lowing at the pasture bars, the pig was squealing angrily in her pen,
the rooster had crowed himself hoarse, and Fidel, patient Fidel, was
sitting on guard at the back door.

Mother Van Hove flew into the kitchen the moment she reached the house,
and in two minutes Jan and Marie were seated before a breakfas