repit old people, often surrounded by their fowls. For
even the poorest and most destitute of the French peasants manage to
have "poulets."

The processions of moving people amazed Ruth. She remembered what the
Dupays had said about Aunt Abelard, and she began to see that there was
a general exodus being forced from the country nearer the front in this
sector.

It was a fact that the people did not look happy. Now and then one of
the American military police walked beside a wagon, as though he had
been sent on with the movers to make sure that they kept moving.

The girl asked M. Lafrane nothing about this exodus. Perhaps he knew
no more the reason for it than Ruth did.

They came to a little dale between hills at last, and in this place
stood a cottage and barns--a tiny homestead, but very neat, and one
that had been unmarred by the enemy. There were even fruit trees
standing.

There was a huge wagon before the door, and into it must go the
household goods and the family as well--if there was a family. It
seemed that the wagon had just arrived, and the American soldiers with
it scarcely knew what to do in this case. There was nothing packed,
ready for removal, and an old woman--the only person about the
farmstead--was busy feeding her flock of chickens.

"You must come, _vite_, Tante," Ruth heard the corporal in charge of
the squad say to the old woman. The automobile had stopped, for the
road was too narrow for it to pass the wagon.

The old woman seemed to understand the American's mixture of English
and French. She shook her head with emphasis.

"But I cannot leave my pullets," she said, aghast. "They will starve.
You will go along, you Americans, and leave me alone."

"You must come; Tante," repeated the corporal, inflexibly. "You should
have prepared for this. You were warned in time." Then to his men:
"Go in, boys, and bring out her goods. Careful, now. Don't mess
anything up."

"You cannot take my things. Your cart is already full," shrilled the
old woman. "And my pullets!"

The American soldiers entered the cottage. Between her anger at them
and her fear for the safety of her chickens, the old woman was in a
pitiful state, indeed. Ruth looked at M. Lafrane.

"Oh, can we not do anything for her?" she asked.

"Military law knows no change--the laws of the Medes and Persians," he
said grimly. "She must go, of course----"

Suddenly he sat up more stiffly beside the American gir