h a smile. "It is cold outside," she said. "May I have a
warm by the fire?"

"Certainly, mademoiselle," said the girl. "And monsieur also. Will it
please you to come round here?"

They went behind the counter and in at a little door. There was a fire in
the grate of the small kitchen, and a kettle singing on the hob. Julie
sat down on a chair at the wooden table and looked round with
satisfaction.

"Why, it's all ready for us!" she exclaimed. "Chocolate cakes, Suzanne,
please, _and_ hot buttered scones. I'll butter them, if you bring the
scones."

They came, and she went to the fire, splitting them open and spreading
the butter lavishly. "I love France," she said. "All laws are made to be
broken, which is all that laws are good for, don't you think?"

"Yes," he said deliberately, glancing at the closed door, and bent and
kissed her neck. She looked up imperiously. "Again," she said; and he
kissed her on the lips. At that she jumped up with a quick return to the
old manner: "Peter! For a parson you are the outside edge. Go and sit
down over there and recollect yourself. To begin with, if we're found,
here, there'll be a row, and if you're caught kissing me, who knows what
will happen?"

He obeyed gaily. "Chaff away, Julie," he said, "but I shan't wear black
buttons at the dinner. You'll have to look out that night."

She put the scones on the table, and sat down. "And if I don't?" she
queried. Peter said nothing. He had suddenly thought of something. He
looked at her, and for the first time she would not meet his eyes.

It was thought better on New Year's Eve that they should go separately to
Donovan's camp, so Peter and Pennell set out for it alone. By the canal
Pennell left his friend to go and meet Elsie Harding, the third girl.
Peter went on alone, and found Donovan, giving some orders in the camp.
He stood with him till they saw the other four, who had met on the
tow-path, coming in together.

"He's a dark horse," called Julie, almost before they had come up, "and
so's she. Fancy Elsie being the third! I didn't know they knew each
other. We're a Colonial party to-night, Jack--all except Peter, that is,
for Mr. Pennell is more Canadian than English. We'll teach them. By the
way, I can't go on saying 'Mr. Pennell' all night. What shall I call him,
Elsie?"

Peter saw that the new-comer wore an Australian brooch, and caught the
unmistakable but charming accent in her reply. "He's 'Trevor' to me, and
he can