t two files. Then for the first time the tears welled
into Jeanne's eyes. She could only stretch out her hands and cry
somewhat wildly to the bronzed statues on each side of her, "_Merci,
mes amis, merci, merci_," and flee into the house.

The next day Maitre Pepineau, the notary, summoned her to his
_cabinet_. Maitre Pepineau was very old. His partner had gone off to
the war. "One of the necessities of the present situation," he would
say, "is that I should go on living in spite of myself; for if I died,
the whole of the affairs of Frelus would be in the soup." Now, a
fortnight back, Maitre Pepineau and four neighbours--the four
witnesses required by French law when there is only one notary to draw
up the _instrument public_--had visited Aunt Morin; so Jeanne knew
that she had made a fresh will.

"_Mon enfant_," said the old man, unfolding the document, "in a
previous will your aunt had left you a little heritage out of the half
of her fortune which she was free to dispose of by the code. You
having come into possession of your own money, she has revoked that
will and left everything to her only surviving son, Gaspard Morin, in
Madagascar."

"It is only just and right," said Jeanne.

"The unfortunate part of the matter," said Maitre Pepineau, "is that
Madame Morin has appointed official trustees to carry on the estate
until Monsieur Gaspard Morin can make his own arrangements. The result
is that you have no _locus standi_ as a resident in the house. I
pointed this out to her. But you know, in spite of her good qualities,
she was obstinate.... It pains me greatly, my dear child, to have to
state your position."

"I am then," said Jeanne, "_sans-asile_--homeless?"

"As far as the house of Monsieur Gaspard Morin is concerned--yes."

"And my English soldiers?" asked Jeanne.

"Alas, my child," replied the old man, "you will find them
everywhere."

Which was cold consolation. For however much inspired by patriotic
gratitude a French girl may be, she cannot settle down in a strange
place where British troops are billeted and proceed straightway to
minister to their comfort. Misunderstandings are apt to arise even in
the best regulated British regiments. In the house of Aunt Morin, in
Frelus, her position was unassailable. Anywhere else ...

"So, my good Toinette," said Jeanne, after having explained the
situation to the indignant old woman, "I can only go back to my friend
in Paris and reconstitute my life. If yo