“We haf many English, you see, and I wass in Bhry-tonn for one year. Yes, sank you, saire.” “Perhaps she could recommend us to some cheap pension,” suggested Lois, as Mademoiselle tinkled among the tea-cups behind the screen. “She looks a sensible kind of girl and we can make her understand the position.” “Good idea!”--and when she came back with the tea and arranged it before them with an ingratiating, “Iff you please,”--he asked, “I wonder if you know of any pension, mademoiselle, where they take in stranded foreigners for nothing a day and feed them well?” But that was altogether too cryptic for her. “Please?” she asked, with a puzzled smile, scenting a joke but not fathoming it. “We want to find a very cheap pension,” explained Lois. “We are on our way home to England but have had the misfortune to lose our purse up there on the Rhone Glacier. And at the Post Office they tell us we may not be able to get any money sent from England for some time, because of the war.” “Ah--zis horreeble war! It is ruining us all. But yess, madame, I know a pension which is cheap. Pension Estèphe, opposite the Gare. It is not everything, but it is clean and it is honest, and it is cheap. I have myself stopped there once.” “Thank you. That is just what we want. We have telegraphed for more money, you see, but they cannot be sure it will ever get there, and we can’t tell when we can get away.” “Ach! It is terreeble. There are many caught like that. Zis horreeble war! It will ruin everybody, yess!” “What’s the latest news about the war?” asked Ray. “Mais, monsieur, we get little news. They are fighting all the time--oh, terreebly. But we do not know much about it. I do hope it will not come here. You do not think it will, monsieur?” “We’ll hope not, ma’m’selle. But if it suited the Germans to come I’ve no doubt they would, in spite of you.” “Ach, I do not like the Germans. No!” “The feeling seems general. Well, we’ll go along presently and look at the Pension Estèphe, and if we like it we shall come in and see you again, ma’m’selle.” “Iff you please, saire!” Madame of the Pension Estèphe eyed them somewhat doubtfully at first. They were above her usual class of customer, and it took considerable explanation to make her understand why they wanted to stop with her, the exact relationship in which they at present stood to one another, and, more especially why they had no luggage but their rucksacs. However, by dint of much talk, they came at last to terms. For a room each, and their meals, she would charge them seven francs per day for the two. If they got married and occupied only one room it would be a franc less. And she providently demanded a deposit of ten francs and that they should pay their bill each day. “For,” said she, without any beating about the bush, “you have no luggage, you see, and you might walk away and leave me nothing but your rucksacs which do not contain much.”