“Nonsense! This is a war wedding and it doesn’t matter what one wears. If my grandmother had not treasured her own wedding frock and had not insisted upon bringing it away rather than more sensible things, I should be without a proper gown myself. It will have to be altered a little, but Aunt Clothilde knows some one who will do that to-morrow.” “And I shall have no wedding present for you,” Lucie went on sadly, “unless,” she added with a little laugh, “I can find you a volume of Dickens.” Annette laughed, too. “How long ago that seems, and what children we were.” “Three years is a long, long time. A month is a long time and you will be away for that long. I wonder what will happen before you get back?” “Let us hope the war will end,” returned Annette, shaking out her sewing as she rose to put it away. Gaspard arrived the next day and with him a young officer who was to be best man. His cousin had tried to get hold of Victor, but finding this an impossibility had pressed this comrade into service. Lucie looked speculatively at the young man, whose name was Adolph Favre, but made up her mind before very long that he was not the hero of her dreams, well meaning and courteous though he was, and quite inclined to pay especial compliments to her. Because of the short notice everything was in a great flurry, of course. Madame Guerin was everywhere, directing, scolding, arranging. Madame Le Brun was divided between encouraging a headache and a desire to see all that was going on. Mons. Le Brun frowned one minute and smiled the next. He was fond of his little granddaughter and this marrying her to a soldier in war time involved some anxiety as to her future. He and Lucie had long talks whenever they found a chance, which was not often. Paulette, summoned from the fields with Odette, was turned into the kitchen to give her very capable assistance in the preparation of the feast. Michel was kept running errands here, there, everywhere, while Jules with the _charrette_ was jogging into the village nearly every hour. At last Annette in her grandmother’s ivory satin wedding gown was ready. Lucie in a simple white voilé attended her. The roses Annette carried were from the garden of _Coin-du-Pres_. The little bride looked very young and innocent. There was not a large wedding party but the small church was filled with the villagers, scarce a young man, but many old ones, were there, the doctor chief among them. Every one tried to be merry at the wedding breakfast but somehow merriment did not sit well; the times were too uncertain, so they finally lapsed into quiet talk, Gaspard and his friends ready to tell of thrilling adventures, which kept the others spellbound until the hour of departure was at hand.