ke hands, mademoiselle. Bow as he approaches. That is all."

The amazing interlude, indeed! With Sara Lee being decorated by the
King, and troops drawn up to do her honor, and over all the rumbling of
the great guns. A palpitating and dazed Sara Lee, when the decoration
was fastened to her black jacket, a Sara Lee whose hat blew off at
exactly the worst moment and rolled, end on, like a hoop, into a puddle.

But, oddly, she did not mind about the hat. She had only one conscious
thought just then. She hoped that, wherever Uncle James might be in that
world of the gone before, he might know what was happening to her--or
even see it. He would have liked it. He had believed in the Belgians and
in the King. And now--the King did not go at once. He went back to the
little house and went through it. And he and one of his generals climbed
to the upper floor, and the King stood looking out silently toward the
land he loved and which for a time was no longer his.

He came down after a time, stooping his tall figure in the low doorway,
and said he would like some tea. So Marie put the kettle on, and Sara
Lee and the King talked. It was all rather dazing. Every now and then
she forgot certain instructions whispered her by the general, and after
a time the King said: "Why do you do that, mademoiselle?"

For Sara Lee, with an intent face and moving lips, had been stepping
backward.

Sara Lee flushed to the eyes.

"Because, sire, I was told to remain at a distance of six feet."

"But we are being informal," said the King, smiling. "And it is a very
little room."

Sara Lee, who had been taught in the schoolroom that kings are usurpers
of the divine rights of the people--Sara Lee lost just a bit of her
staunch democracy that day. She saw the King of the Belgians for what
he really was, a ruler, but a symbol as well. He represented his
country, as the Flag she loved represented hers. The flag was America,
the King was Belgium. That was all.

It was a very humble and flushed Sara Lee who watched the gray car go
flying up the street later on. She went in and told the whole story to
Harvey's picture, but it was difficult to feel that he was hearing. His
eyes were turned away and his face was set and stern. And, at last, she
gave it up. This thing which meant so much to her would never mean
anything to Harvey. She knew, even then, what he would say.

"Decorate you! I should think they might. Medals are cheap. Everybody
over there