Eating their evening meal life seemed to hold out fresh hope. After all, had they not been assured that the United States was each day landing thousands of fresh troops in France? Soon the enemy would be driven out of France forever!
Then, a little further on, Mrs. Burton beheld a familiar and well beloved figure.
Passing between the groups of refugees, most of them old men and women who had been traveling on foot, pushing perambulators or else drawing wagons laden with tiny children or their few household possessions, marched Miss Patricia Lord.
She appeared to be dispensing food to her fellow travelers, as on one arm she was carrying a large pail and on the other a basket.
Discovering Mrs. Burton she set both the pail and the basket down in the middle of the road and strode forward, and for once in her life Miss Patricia appeared apologetic.
“Polly, my dear, forgive me for keeping you waiting so long. I hope you are not utterly worn out; I am extremely worried about you and yet I could not resist what I am doing at present. I have had no opportunity to tell you that I brought away with me from our farmhouse nearly all the food supply we had in our possession. It was my intention then to feed as many refugees as possible along the road to Paris. I presume I should have thought of you first, but I believed you would feel obliged to wait for me somewhere and that you had journeyed far enough for today. Come with me.”
Meekly following Miss Patricia, who had by this time picked up her now empty basket and pail, Mrs. Burton walked on a few yards more.
In a little patch of grass, springing up near the roadside under the few warm rays of the March sun, Mrs. Burton found old Jean, the French peasant, milking one of Miss Patricia’s cows. Beside him and engaged in a similar occupation was a young French boy.
Drawn up out of the way of the other vehicles, that were still passing along the main road, Miss Patricia’s horses and wagon were waiting. Standing beside the wagon, was Vera Lagerloff. She was bestowing a small package of food upon anyone who requested it, but at the same time keeping careful watch on the main supply.
Not until a second glance, did Mrs. Burton discover what had become of Sally Ashton. Then she saw Sally standing listlessly a few feet away, making no effort to help either Vera or Miss Patricia and scarcely appearing to notice the people about her.
As her Camp Fire guardian approached, Sally tried to express a proper degree of enthusiasm and affection, yet Sally’s appearance frightened and puzzled Mrs. Burton.
She did not look at her directly, yet one could see that the expression of her eyes had changed. They had lost their childish look of dreaming and were wide open and startled. Her face had ceased to possess its former softly rounded curve and there were tiny hollows in her cheeks and lines about her mouth.
“Sally, I am tired, won’t you come with me? I do not feel strong enough to walk alone. The other girls and I have found a little cottage not far away which we think deserted. I believe we had best spend the night there. We are all too weary to go on any further and besides, darkness will be upon us in another hour. I will explain to Aunt Patricia, and she and Vera will join us later when they have finished feeding the little multitude.”
After a few words of explanation to Miss Patricia, Sally and Mrs. Burton went on toward the abandoned cottage, neither of them attempting any conversation.
Approaching them a few yards from the house were Alice Ashton and Bettina Graham. At once Alice took charge of her sister and Bettina of their Camp Fire guardian.
Both girls reported that the house they had discovered was entirely abandoned and that they had taken possession of it for the night. Supper was ready and waiting.
An hour after the entire party was asleep.
CHAPTER V
Armistice Day in Paris
It was shortly before eleven o’clock on the morning of November eleventh when the bells of Paris began pealing.
The following instant a group of young American girls who had been seated about a tiny fire in a large, bare room, jumped hurriedly to their feet.
“It has come at last, the Germans have signed the armistice! Vive la paix!” one of them exclaimed.
Her words were almost drowned in the noise of the firing of guns, the thunder of cannon, noises to which Paris had been listening for the past four years in bitterness, but which she now heard with rejoicing.
“Let us start out at once, Aunt Patricia, to take part in the celebration before the streets become too crowded,” Peggy Webster suggested. “What luck to be in Paris today! I should rather be here than in any city in the world at the present time, for surely the city which has suffered most through the war must rejoice most!”
As she finished speaking, Peggy walked over to a window and flung it open. Already they could hear the sounds of cheering. Below Peggy could see people running into the street, windows of other houses being thrown open. Voices were calling, vive, vive everything, except, “la guerre.”
“Isn’t it a pity Tante is not with us? We shall miss her more than ever today,” Bettina added. “Yet I am glad she is not too ill to feel the deepest thankfulness even if she cannot take part in the celebration and we may manage to see her later this afternoon. Aunt Patricia, do you feel equal to going with us? The crowds may make you overtired. Don’t worry, we promise to be as careful as possible, but do let us hurry. I feel as if I could scarcely bear the four walls of a house ten minutes longer. I want to shout, weep, laugh over victory. Glorious France, how much she has suffered and how much she has won!”
“Nevertheless, Bettina Graham, there is no reason to talk in such a high-flown fashion,” Miss Patricia Lord returned, “as if you were making a speech on one of the boulevards. I think we had better be saying our prayers. Just the same please be quiet a moment while I try to think; the noise outside is sufficient without your increasing it. I am afraid it will not be safe for you Camp Fire girls to go out into the streets for at least another twenty-four hours. But most certainly I shall go, however, I will return as promptly as possible to let you know what I have seen.”
At this instant Miss Patricia removed the large horned spectacles, through which she had been reading the morning paper, and wiped the moisture from them carefully. She then wiped her eyes, but entirely unconscious of what she was doing.
Nevertheless, she may have remained unaware of the expressions upon the faces of the half dozen girls who were her present companions.
At this moment an arm encircled her waist.
“Really, truly, Aunt Patricia, you don’t think we can stay indoors when all the rest of Paris is rejoicing? You wouldn’t be so cruel as to ask it of us, you who have preached courage in the time of war, would not have us turn cowards with the approach of peace?”
And Mary Gilchrist looked imploringly into Miss Patricia’s fine eyes, wise enough not to appear to notice their unusual moisture.
“You come with us, Aunt Patricia, and I think we shall manage to keep together and not to lose either our heads or our way. Remember we made a safe retreat to Paris when the Huns believed they were soon to follow after us and take possession of the city.”
As Mary Gilchrist had just announced, it was true that a number of months before, after an arduous retreat, first from their farmhouse on the Aisne and later from the Château Yvonne, the Camp Fire girls and their guardians had arrived safely in Paris. During the following summer months they had
