re blacker than any negro," she remarked.
"_Eh, bien!_ I thank you, Keed, _mon ami_, for your complaisance. You are
very amiable to submit to the whim of a silly girl who suddenly becomes
afraid of her own shadow."

Glenn grinned and glanced significantly at the cross dangling from her
bosom:

"Sure," he said, "your government decorates cowards. That's why it gave
you the Legion."

She blushed but looked up at him seriously:

"Keed, if I flew a little toy balloon in the air, where would the west
wind carry it?"

"Into the Boche trenches," he replied, much interested in the idea. "If
you've got one, we'll paint 'To hell with Willie' on it and set it afloat!
But we'll have to get permission from the gendarmes first."

She said, smiling:

"I'm sorry, but I haven't any toy balloons."

She picked up her basket with its new load of soiled linen, swung it
gracefully to her head, ignoring his offered assistance, gave him a
beguiling glance, and went away along the sheep-path.

Once more she followed the deep-trodden and ancient trail through copse
and pasture and over the stream down into the meadow, where the west wind
furrowed the wild-flowers and the early afternoon sun fell hot.

She set her clothes to soak, laid paddle and soap beside them, then,
straightening up, remained erect on her knees, her intent gaze fixed on
the distant clump of aspens, delicate as mist above the hazel copse on the
little hill beyond.

It was a whole hour before her eyes caught the high glimmer of a tiny
balloon. Only for a moment was it visible at that distance, then it became
merged in the dazzling blue above the woods.

She waited. At last she concluded that there were to be no more balloons.
Then a sudden fear assailed her lest she had waited too long to
investigate; and she sprang to her feet, hurried over the single plank
used as a footbridge, and sped down through the alders.

Here and there a pheasant ran headlong across her path; a rabbit or two
scuttled through the ferns. Nearing the hazel copse she slackened speed
and advanced with caution, scanning the thicket ahead.

Suddenly, on the ground in front of her, she caught sight of a small iron
cylinder. Evidently it had rolled down there from the slope above.

Very gingerly she approached and picked it up. It was not very heavy, not
too big for her skirt pocket.

As she slipped it into the pocket of her blue woolen peasant-skirt, her
quick eye caught a movement among t