e to replace the missing muscle,
to till the soil, care for the kitchen garden and the animals, and send
three small children off to school on time, all of them washed and
combed, without a hole in their stockings or a spot on their aprons.
It needs something more than courage to be able to sing and dissimulate
one's anxieties, to hide in one corner of that envelope that will be
opened by him "Out there," a little favourite flower, tenderly cared
for, nursed to maturity.

"Bah!" she laughs as I sympathise. "It might be bad if one were all
alone in his troubles. But we're all in the same boat, down here!"

Yes, all of them have done their duty--more than their duty, the
impossible. In other villages it is just the same--in other Provinces.
From one end to the other of France such marvels have been accomplished
that the government decided that so much devotion merited recompense.

So one fine morning a motor was seen to stop in front of the Cafe
Lacroix, a gentleman in uniform (some say it was the Prefet)
accompanied by two other men, got down and walked over to the town hall
that is near the church.

A few moments later Criquet was dispatched on bicycle to Anna
Troussiere's and Claudine Charpin's, with orders to bring them back
with him.

He soon returned accompanied by the two frightened creatures, who
fearing ill news had not unrolled their sleeves nor removed the
handkerchief from their heads, but jumped on their bicycles and
hastened to the town hall.

Then suddenly the gentleman in uniform appeared on the steps, made them
a little speech, and stepping down pinned a medal on their heaving
breasts. He thrust a diploma which bore their names into their
trembling fingers, shook hands with them most cordially, and mounting
in his car, drove away in a cloud of dust.

Every one, much excited, gathered around the two women. The medals
were handed about, commented upon.

"Beautiful," exclaimed Criquet who is something of a wag. "I think
they're made of bronze. Too bad they're not chocolate so you might
give us all some."

"Claudine," said Anna Troussiere, "it's time we went home if we don't
want to be teased to death. Goodness, if only we'd known, we might
have brushed up a bit!"

But the incident did not end there. The government, anxious to show
its gratitude, offered to send them help, in the shape of war
prisoners. The proposition was tempting. A bourgeois who had several
big farms said he would