rs who had been taken prisoners by the Germans and were
now being allowed to rejoin their own comrades.

"We haven't a great deal of food, I know," Sonya began impulsively. "But
don't you think, Dr. Raymond, we might ask the friends who have come to
welcome us and who seem hungriest to share our food? A great quantity of
supplies are to follow us and we will probably wait for a few days
somewhere along the line of march. Dr. Clark told me he wanted us to be
prepared to care for the wounded American soldiers we meet along the
way, soldiers who have been imprisoned in Germany and must have
suffered untold tortures from improper treatment. Then, if any of our
own soldiers are taken ill along the route of march, Dr. Clark is to see
they are left in a comfortable hospital with the necessary supplies and
it may be we shall be delayed to look after them."

Forgetting her effort to enter the little house, Sonya at this instant
moved away from Dr. Raymond to rejoin the other Red Cross nurses.

In French fashion some of the old peasants were kissing the hands of
their allies. Miss Blackstone and a physician had already unwound a
dirty bandage from the arm of an American soldier and were examining his
wound. Sonya had no desire to be left out of the little crowd of French
and American friends.

Within fifteen minutes, however, she had again returned to the little
house. This time she was accompanied by an old French peasant woman to
whom she had explained the situation, inquiring if the farmhouse was in
truth uninhabited.

At present it was the French woman who hammered, not gently but with
the utmost firmness upon the closed door.

"It may not be possible, madame, that we enter in at the front door,"
she explained. "It is my impression that la petite Louisa has never once
unfastened this door since she opened it to the German soldiers who
afterwards took away her mother and older sister. She has been here ever
since all alone, as her father and brother were of course with the army.
La petite Louisa has since that time been distrait, not you understand
exactly in her right senses, but harmless. It is not that her French
neighbors have neglected her. I have myself tried to take her home to be
with me, but always she comes back to the little grey house."

The old peasant shrugged her shoulders, as she continued banging on the
door and talking at the same time.

"There have been so many things to endure. One more forsaken, ha