the door, she took her children by the hand and plunged with them
into the sad and silent crowd.

II. ON THE WAY HOME

For some time after leaving the Cathedral, Mother Meraut and the Twins
lingered in the streets, forgetful of everything but the retreating
Army and the coming invasion. Everywhere there were crowds surging to
and fro. Some were hastening to close their places of business and put
up their shutters before the Germans should arrive. Some were hurrying
through the streets carrying babies and bundles. Others were wheeling
their few belongings upon barrows or in baby-carriages. Still others
flew by on bicycles with packages of clothing fastened to the
handle-bars; and there were many automobiles loaded to the brim with
household goods and fleeing families.

Doors were flung open and left swinging on their hinges as people
escaped, scarcely looking behind them as they fled. These were refugees
from Rheims itself. There were many others wearily plodding through the
City, people who had come from Belgium and the border towns of France.
Some who had come from farms drove pitiful cattle before them, and some
journeyed in farm wagons, with babies and old people, chickens, dogs,
and household goods mixed in a heap upon beds of straw. In all the City
there was not a cheerful sight, and everywhere, above all other sounds,
were heard the rumble of wheels, the sharp clap-clap of horses' hoofs
upon the pavement, and the steady beat of marching feet.

At last, weary and heartsick, the three wanderers turned into a side
street and stepped into a little shop where food was sold. "We must
have some supper," said Mother Meraut to the Twins, "Germans or no
Germans! One cannot carry a stout heart above an empty stomach! And if
it is to be our last meal in French Rheims, let us at least make it a
good one!" Though there was a catch in her voice, she smiled almost
gaily as she spoke. "Who knows?" she went on. "Perhaps after to-morrow
we shall be able to get nothing but sauerkraut and sausage!"

The shop was not far from the little home of the Merauts, and they
often bought things of stout Madame Coudert, whose round face with its
round spectacles rose above the counter like a full moon from behind a
cloud. "Ah, mon amie," said Mother Meraut as she entered the shop, "it
is good to see you sitting in your place and not running away like a
hare before the hounds!"

Madame Coudert shrugged her shoulders. "But of what use i