“_Au ’voir! Au ’voir!_” followed them till they turned the corner of the road by the Calvary and the white house of _Coin-du-Pres_ was lost to view. It had been truly a haven of refuge, and Lucie trembled a little as she realized that again she was launching out upon the wide sea of uncertainty. At the station in Paris there was Miss Lowndes to meet them, looking a little older, a little thinner, but as bright and cheerful as ever. At sight of Paulette’s accumulations she was rather staggered for a moment, but she had seen too many refugees to be long nonplussed, and in an incredibly short space of time she had found a man with a handcart into which everything was bundled but the livestock from which Paulette absolutely refused to be parted. Paris in June was a more attractive place than Paris in November, and Lucie was not sorry to be there. Her satisfaction increased, however, to real enthusiasm when Miss Lowndes told her that the first American troops had already landed and were expected in Paris the next day. “And we shall see them, Lucie, we shall see them,” Miss Lowndes said to her. “I am so glad that we do not leave before that. I could not have stood it.” “And we shall see them, Paulette and Odette, too?” “Surely.” “How wonderful, how wonderful! It may be that some of my own kin will be among them, although I have no means of finding out. I like to think it, however. Shall you have friends among them?” “I think so and I shall look out for them, though I shall be so excited I doubt if I can distinguish any one.” It took some diplomacy for Miss Lowndes to house these newcomers properly. Lucie she bore off to her own boarding house, Paulette and Odette were lodged near by with one Hortense Morand who kept the bakery from which Miss Lowndes’ rolls were served, and who, considering that it was for an exile, was willing to take in not only these two lodgers but the hens, the rabbits and the pigeons. But if it was difficult to find lodgings for the little party, so much the more was it so to find a vantage point from which they could view the newly arrived troops. All Paris was agog. The streets were crowded, flags were flying, bands were playing. “I suppose there is nothing for us but to mix with the common herd,” declared Miss Lowndes, “and stand on the sidewalk. After all there might be a worse place, for we shall be nearer to the boys than higher up. Here, Lucie, pin on this little American flag. You, too, Paulette, and you, Odette. I think I can make myself known as an American and perhaps we shall receive some consideration in being given room.”