u will accompany me----?"

But no. Toinette had the peasant's awful dread of Paris. She had heard
about Paris: there were thieves, ruffians that they called _apaches_,
who murdered you if you went outside your door.

"The _apaches_," laughed Jeanne, "were swept away into the army on the
outbreak of war, and they've nearly all been killed, fighting like
heroes."

"There are the old ones left, who are worse than the young," retorted
Toinette.

No. Mademoiselle could teach her nothing about Paris. You could not
even cross a street without risk of life, so many were the omnibuses
and automobiles. In every shop you were a stranger to be robbed. There
was no air in Paris. You could not sleep for the noise. And then--to
live in a city of a hundred million people and not know a living soul!
It was a mad-house matter. Again no. It grieved her to part from
mademoiselle, but she had made her little economies--a difficult
achievement, considering how regardful of her pence Madame had
been--and she would return to her Breton town, which forty years ago
she had left to enter the service of Madame Morin.

"But after forty years, Toinette, who in Paimpol will remember you?"

"It is I who remember Paimpol," said Toinette. She remained for a few
moments in thought. Then she said: "_C'est drole, tout de meme._ I
haven't seen the sea for forty years, and now I can't sleep of nights
thinking of it. The first man I loved was a fisherman of Paimpol. We
were to be married after he returned from an Iceland voyage, with a
_gros benefice_. When the time came for his return, I would stand on
the shore and watch and watch the sea. But he never came. The sea
swallowed him up. And then--you can understand quite well--the child
was born dead. And I thought I would never want to look at the sea
again. So I came here to your Aunt Morin, the daughter of Doctor
Kersadec, your grandfather, and I married Jules Dagnant, the foreman
of the carters of the hay ... and he died a long time ago ... and now
I have forgotten him and I want to go and look at the sea where my man
was drowned."

"But your grandson, who is fighting in the Argonne?"

"What difference can it make to him whether I am in Frelus or
Paimpol?"

"That's true," said Jeanne.

Toinette bustled about the kitchen. Folks had to eat, whatever
happened. But she went on talking, Madame Morin. One must not speak
evil of the dead. They have their work cut out to extricate themselves
from Pur