“Look here,” Philip broke in, “it doesn’t seem to me that he’s telling that right. There’s too little of it. I can’t understand it all, you know, but I can make out quite a lot. Better let me tell it. The boy was just out of the hospital. He was to go home. Does he go? Not a bit of it. He works it so he gets permission to help at one of the Red Cross stations. He told them that he wished above all things to discover the whereabouts of one Madame Louise Du Bois. She was supposed to be interned in one of the towns held by the Germans, unless she had been deported to Germany. He talked so persistently and interested so many persons that the word was passed along and your precious mother was finally located and sent on to this Red Cross station where Mons. Victor Guerin met her and escorted her to her own home.” “What is this he says?” asked Victor, hearing his name. “Never mind,” said Lucie. “It is nothing to your discredit, Victor. In fact I find you a hero, you dear, good Victor, for you discovered my mother.” “I did nothing at all. I simply made inquiries and asked others to do the same.” “But it was through you that she was able to come home. You found her.” “I did not find her. They of the _Croix Rouge_ did that and sent us here. At the canteen in this town we find your uncle.” “Aha!” exclaimed Lucie. “And how long, my sly uncle, had you been there?” Philip colored up and laughed a trifle confusedly. “Really it was only a few minutes. I was coming here right away. As I was saying, Louise, mother would not say a word to discourage my coming.” Lucie gently touched Victor’s empty sleeve. “It is very sad,” she said softly. “I wish I could tell you how I feel for you.” “It is not so bad,” returned Victor cheerfully, though his eyes had a pathetic expression. “I have had the supreme joy of doing this much for France! I have given what I could of myself and have come out better than many of my comrades who have lost their sight or who must be entirely helpless the rest of their lives. I shall do very well, for it is my left arm, and I can have a most ingeniously contrived substitute.” “I suppose he has told you of his _Croix de Guerre_.” Philip spoke again. “You have the cross, Victor. Then you are a hero,” Lucie said. “I deserved it no more than many another who did not receive it, yet I was very proud when they gave it to me at the hospital.” “So am I proud, and so will your grandmother be. I suppose you will soon be going to _Coin-du-Pres_.” “Yes, although just now it is rather a _triste_ place. I think they would rather I did not come at once.” “But why _triste_ at this special time?” “You have heard that my cousin Gaspard is no more? that he was killed on the Italian front?” “Oh, no, Victor, I had not heard. Poor little Annette a widow! How very sad. What a blessed thing that she has her baby.” “That is the great comfort.” “And shall you go back to take Gaspard’s place?”