"It Is Like a Fairy Story" 46

He Led the Way Into a Long Room 108

"Go on Tiptoe" 140

A Royal Feast 169

"I Shall Do My Best" 190

[Illustration]

THE STORY OF SILK

CHAPTER I

THE BRETTON FAMILY

Madame Antoinette Bretton went for the third time to the door of her
tiny cottage and, shading her eyes, looked anxiously up the side of the
ice-capped mountain that flanked the garden. There was still no one in
sight, and with a shake of her head she returned to the coarse grey
socks she was knitting.

It was late afternoon, and through the stillness she could hear the roar
of the river, the tinkle of herd-bells, and the faint sound of chimes
from the far-away village chapel. How quiet the house seemed without
Marie and Pierre! The boy and girl had climbed to the hillside pasture
to drive the goats down for milking and Hector, the great St. Bernard
dog that had been the children's companion ever since they were born,
had gone with them, for Hector was an expert at rounding up a herd.
Although he was not a young dog he had the zeal of a puppy; with this he
combined the wisdom of a sage, and it was for the latter reason that
Madame Bretton never worried about her children when Hector was with
them. For to Madame Bretton the boy and the girl were still children.
Neither Hector, Marie, nor Pierre had dreamed of being really grown up
until the Great War had come and Monsieur Bretton, together with Uncle
Jacques, had been called to the colors of France.

Throughout the valley were other boys and girls whose fathers, brothers,
and uncles had left their homes behind--boys and girls who were not as
old as Marie or Pierre, but who nevertheless were courageously trying to
do the work of their elders. Marie was now nearly fifteen, and Pierre
was sixteen; but when suddenly called upon to take their father's place,
they felt much older. Yesterday they had been children with little to do
but play; to-day work was ahead of them, much hard work, which seemed to
have aged them in a single night and turned them from boy and girl into
responsible grown up persons.

What a different village Bellerivre was with so many of its men away!

Yet how bravely its peasants had responded to the call, and how
dauntlessly those left behind