den older than himself. He was ever an interesting study, though I do
not think I really loved him until he confided his affairs of the heart,
and entrusted me with the writing of his love-letters. I know that
behind my back he invariably referred to me as "Ma"; but as he openly
addressed the unconscious nun as "you giddy old girl," "Ma" might almost
be termed respectful, and I think our regard was mutual.

All things come to him who waits. There came a night when for the last
time we sat together around the little tree, watching the Soeur light the
candles that illuminated the Holy _Bebe_. On the morrow the prisoners,
carefully disinfected, and bearing the order of their release in the
form of a medical certificate, would be set free.

It clouded our gladness to know that before the patient Sister stretched
another period of isolation. Just that day another pupil had developed
scarlet fever, and only awaited our boys' departure to occupy the little
room. Hearing that this fresh prisoner lay under sentence of durance
vile, we suggested that all the toys--chiefly remnants of shattered
armies that, on hearing of the Boy's illness, we had brought from the
home playroom he had outgrown--might be left for him instead of being
sent away to be burnt.

The Boy's bright face dulled. "If it had been anybody else! But, mother,
I don't think you know that he is the one French boy we disliked. It was
he who always shouted '_a bas les Anglais!_' in the playground."

The reflection that for weary weeks this obnoxious boy would be the only
inmate of the _boite_, as the invalids delighted to call their
sick-room, overcame his antipathetic feeling, and he softened so far as
to indite a polite little French note offering his late enemy his
sympathy, and formally bequeathing to him the reversion of his toys,
including the _arbre de Noel_ with all its decorations, except the
little waxen Jesus nestling in the manger of yellow corn; the Soeur had
already declared her intention of preserving that among her treasures.

The time that had opened so gloomily had passed, and now that it was
over we could look back upon many happy hours spent within the dingy
prison walls. And our thoughts were in unison, for the Boy, abruptly
breaking the silence, said: "And after all, it hasn't been such a bad
time. Do you know, I really think I've rather enjoyed it!"

L'ENVOI

[Illustration: L'Envoi]

Heavy skies lowered above us, the landscape s