T

" Interior
\6th December, 1940]
HE low house with the tiled roof seemed
to rise out of the watery plain as naturally as
did the trees that surrounded it. Outside the
wind was icy, but as soon as the door opened the
warmth from the great stove enveloped you. A
polished walnut sideboard, with old elegant curves,
graced one of the walls. Over it hung devout prints,
presented by the newspaper La Croix. At the table
sat a young English corporal, a boy still, pains-
takingly writing a long, long letter. In an armchair
an old French workman, very pale, panting: and
standing at his side his wife, she too old, yet fresh
and hale, trying to make him swallow a little
soup.
Tapa is not well/ she said to the corporal sadly.
'Not well?' he answered, slowly shaking his head.
She turned to me.
Tred calls us Papa and Maman. He's here every
day to write his letters and warm himself and dry his
things. Those are his puttees in front of the fire.
The mobilization has taken our sons and our
grandsons, so it does us good to have a nice boy like