wet. No
moon. Come on into the house."

He closed and locked the big gate, but before we reached the house,
there was a rush of horsemen in the road--then a halt--the Youngster
opened the gate before it was called for. Two mounted men in Khaki
rode in, stopped short at the sight of the group, saluted.

"Your house?" asked one, as he slid from his saddle and leaned against
his horse.

"Mine," said the Doctor, stepping forward.

"You are not proposing to stay here?"

"No, we are leaving in the morning."

"Got any conveyances?"

"Two touring cars."

"Good. You don't mind my proposing that you go before daylight, do
you?"

"Not a bit," replied the Doctor, "if it is necessary."

"That's for you to decide," said the other officer. "We are going to
set up a battery in this garden. Awfully sorry, you know, but it can't
be helped."

The Youngster, who had remained at the gate, came back, and whispered
in my ear, "They are coming. It's the English still retreating. By
Jove, it looks as if they would get to Paris!"

"How many are there of you?" asked the senior officer.

"Ten," replied the Doctor.

"Eleven," corrected the Divorcee. "I shall take Angele and the baby."
And she started on a run for the garage.

"Perhaps," said the Doctor, looking through the open gate, where the
weary soldiers were beginning to straggle by, "perhaps it will not be
necessary for all of us to go." And he went close to the officers, and
drew his papers from his pocket. There was a hurried whispered
conversation, in which the Critic and the Journalist joined. When it
was over, the Doctor said, "I understand," and returned to our group.

"Well, good friends," he said, "it really _is_ farewell to the garden!
The Critic and I are going to stay a bit. We are needed. The Youngster
will drive one car, and the Lawyer the other. Get ready to start by
three,--that will be just before daylight--and get into the house, all
of you. You are in the way here!"

Everybody obeyed.

We had less than three hours to get together necessary articles and
all the time there was the steady marching of feet in the road, where
what servants we had were standing with water and such small help as
could be offered a tired army, and bringing in for first aid such of
the exhausted men as could be braced up.

Long before we were ready, we heard the rumble of the artillery and
the low commands of the officers. In spite of ourselves, we looked out
to see the gra