ith great
jubilation.

"_Vive les anglais!_" was the cry on every hand. Old men with tears in
their eyes welcomed them; old women vied with each other in showering
blessings upon them; young girls followed them with shouts of laughter,
yet with sobs in their laughter, and wished them every blessing.

"Yes, monsieur," cried an old dame to Bob, as he entered a fruit-shop,
"take what you will. You English are our friends, our saviours. We
French did not want to fight, but the Germans forced us. And then,
voila! You came forward like the friends you are, and you say, 'Down
with the German eagle. France shall have fair play.' No, no, I will
take no payment. Take what you will."

"But you are, perhaps, poor, madame!" urged Bob. "This war has made it
hard for you."

"Hard! Ah, you say the truth. We have a garden near by. My husband
and sons worked in it--now they are all gone. My husband and four sons
went, but two of my sons are dead--killed."

"Perhaps they are only taken prisoners."

"And is not that death? What is life in a German prison but death?
But, never mind, I have my husband and two sons still alive--but no, I
will not take your money. Perhaps you have a mother, young monsieur?"

"Yes," replied Bob, and the picture of his mother sitting alone in the
old home at St. Ia flashed before his eyes.

"Ah, yes, I see," said the old woman. "I see. But perhaps you have
brothers, sisters?"

"No, I am her only son."

"And she grieves to part with you?"

"Yes, but she wanted me to go. She was angry with me for keeping back
so long."

"Ah, that is the true woman. She hates the Germans?"

"No, we have friends there. But she wanted me to be here for duty's
sake, and for England's honour."

"Ah, yes--England's honour. You promised Belgium, didn't you? And
then there is the _Entente Cordiale_. _Vive l'Entente Cordiale_,
monsieur! Ah, must you go? There is nothing else you will take?"

"Nothing, madame. Good-bye. God be with you."

"If you meet my husband, Alphonse Renaud is his name, or my two sons,
Jean and Albert, you will tell them you saw me, spoke to me."

"But certainly, madame."

"And when the war is over, and if you return this way, you will call
and see me, won't you? Adieu, monsieur, and the good God be with you."

Bob felt all the better for the old woman's simple talk. She was only
a commonplace old dame, but a kindly heart beat in her bosom. After
all, this war, gha