The days lengthened to weeks, the weeks to months, but still the war continued, while life went on uninterruptedly at _Coin-du-Pres_. During the time that Victor was slowly creeping back to life and strength at a distant hospital, Pom Pom in the hands of his friends won out in his race for health. Long before Victor was able to be on his feet the little dog was running about quite as if he had never heard of shrapnel or big guns. To be sure he was a trifle stiff and favored one hind leg when he ran, but he had full use of three others and was as good as ever, Lucie declared. If ever a dog was petted and pampered it was he, though it was always Lucie whom he followed, Lucie whom he wished to guard. The good doctor dropped in frequently for a friendly call, a chat with the girls about Pom Pom, a talk with Mons. Le Brun about the war. Lucie often listened to the discussions, learning of the sinking of the _Lusitania_, of the second battle of Ypres, of how the French in the Champagne failed to pierce the German lines, of Italy as a possible ally, of the fighting in Russia, in Turkey. The reports of the ups and downs made the excitement of the days and were discussed by every one from Michel up. The year 1915 went out with no great encouragement to the hopes of the Allies; 1916 came in with little promise of sudden success, but it found the same grim determination in the heart of every soldier fighting for the Allied cause. From time to time Lucie saw her father, who could tell them of the battle of Verdun, assuring them that though the Germans had taken Fort Douaumont it was through heavy losses, and not large results. This was in February. In July began the battle of the Somme. It was while it was in progress that ill news came to Paulette. Jean Ribot was reported missing. It was only in the first few moments that Paulette collapsed. Old Jules brought the news. There had never been very good feeling between him and Paulette; the latter’s sarcasms were too cutting, but there was only neighborly sympathy on Jules’ face when he found Paulette out in the field with Odette and the other workers. The good woman looked dazed for a moment, then she sank down upon a heap of newly cut hay and covered her face with her hands. The others stood around in respectful silence, though shaking their heads at one another and whispering little prayers. It was Odette who broke the silence. She stood, slender and firm, with uplifted head. “If it be true, he has given his best for France,” she said, “but I do not believe it is true.” Paulette rose to her feet, wiped her eyes and grasped Odette by the wrist. “Why, why, do you say that?” she asked in a tense voice. “That one is missing does not mean that one is dead,” replied Odette. “He may be a prisoner.” “Better he were dead,” mourned Paulette, covering her head with her apron.