Paulette regarded the young man who stood smiling down at her. She shook her head uncompromisingly. “I have never seen monsieur before.” “Of course you haven’t, but I have, although I don’t remember it, for I was only three years old when mama took me to see her people. This is my Uncle Philip, my very own uncle.” “Monsieur!” Paulette clasped her hands rapturously. “I ask ten thousand pardons.” “I am taking him home, Paulette, where we can talk. You will find us there when you come back.” “I was only a little kid about twelve years old, but I remember what a darling child you were,” said Philip, as they continued their way. “It is a long time, nearly fifteen years ago, and I am no more a child,” returned Lucie soberly. “You have had hard times, then?” “I will tell you.” She took him to the pathetically poor little home and there she told him all. More than once during the recital he sprang from the broken step upon which they were sitting and paced the walk, biting his lip and muttering under his breath. At the close of her story he broke forth into rapid speech. “My sister! My sister! We must find her. If only I may be spared to look for her, to bring her back. I must try to get in touch with your father. You know where he is?” Lucie gave him the address, which he carefully wrote down in his notebook. “What a duffer to think I should find you all in some safe place. If I had only known. If I had only come sooner.” “What could you have done, my uncle?” “I don’t know, but I could have tried.” “We have all tried, my father, our friends, our relatives. The German line is like a sealed wall, one cannot tell what goes on behind it, but we hope, always we hope. Others have come back and so will she. Now that you have come the war will soon be over.” “Pray God it will. Couldn’t you find a better place than this to live in, Lucie? There are many quite good houses at the other end of the town.” “Yes, but they are not ours; this is home.” “You poor, dear, loyal little thing. I know that is the way all the French feel; a foot of earth that is their very own is worth more than another’s acres. Well, we shall have to see about getting a roof on your house, and some windows and doors set in. Has your father seen it?” “No, we do not wish that he see it till we have it better.” He smiled at her phrasing. “Well, I must be going. Time’s up. I shall try to see you every day. I don’t know how long we shall be here, not very long, I fancy. By the way, who is that peach of a girl at the canteen?” “You mean Miss Lowndes? She is my very dear friend.” “You show good taste. She is a perfect pippin.” And Philip walked off, leaving his little niece looking admiringly after him.