ced to ten francs
and three sous.

For not another cent piece did America's pride obtain; not another sou
to add to the three. Politely, firmly, a harassed clerk shooed him
away. No, he could not tell him when the next boat would sail--perhaps
to-morrow, perhaps in a fortnight. He did not know, and he did not
care how he proposed to live during that period, and he had no
intention of furnishing him with any money to do it with. He had
definite orders from his firm: no cheques cashed under any
circumstances whatever. He was sorry the gentleman didn't like
Marseilles, or war, or France, or him personally; he regretted deeply
that the gentleman's wife liked peaches with every meal, and hoped he'd
manage all right on his ten francs; he---- And then came the
interruption.

They crowded to the door, and watched them coming. Occasionally a
cheer rang out, but for the most part they came in silence, passing
through the ranks of people that lined the road each side. Half way
down the column a band blared forth, and every now and then the Colonel
in front lifted his right hand gravely in a salute. They were small
men, the poilus of that regiment; but they marched well, with a swing,
and the glint of white teeth. Sometimes they waved a greeting to a
girl on the footpath, and she would smile back, or throw them a flower
or a kiss. And like a ripple going down the lines of spectators, men
took off their hats suddenly. The Colours were passing. . . .

Almost dazedly the American took off his hat as the ripple reached him;
then he put it on again and turned to Draycott.

"Hell!" he remarked tersely, "and I've been worry in' over a ten-franc
note. I guess I feel a bit small." He turned and followed the
regiment, with his hands deep in his pockets, and his shoulders squared.

VI

It came through the following afternoon--the news they had been waiting
for; and now for a certain period the curtain of discretion must be
drawn. I gather that Draycott has dim recollections of a stout field
officer endeavouring to stand on a small marble-topped table, with a
glass of beer in each hand. He was making a speech--chiefly in
Hindustani--to the frenzied mob of cheering Frenchmen around him. Then
he came to the point when the best people say "Vive la France!" He
remembered he had a hat on; he remembered he ought to take it off; he
did. The only thing he forgot was the beer. But as he said later when
they sorted him out,