“No. The Germans are coming,” he replied curtly. “Go to your mother’s room; gather together such valuables as you know she may wish to secure, with any of your own, put them in a strong box and bring the box to me at once. There is no time to lose.” Without waiting for further orders Lucie flew to her mother’s room, hurriedly gathered together pieces of jewelry, a couple of miniatures, a packet of letters, a few laces. To these she added her own little trinkets, crowding them all into a box which she brought down from the attic and which, when filled, she carried to her grandfather. She found him with Paulette in the garden. Both had spades with which they were digging up the earth as rapidly as possible. A large box of silver stood at one side, another of papers. Lucie set down the box she carried. Her grandfather glanced up but continued his spading as he gave further directions. “Go now, and make a bundle of your clothing, no more than you can carry easily. Take only serviceable things, nothing flimsy.” Back went Lucie, wasted no time in collecting shoes, stockings, a pair of each, a change of underwear, a couple of her stoutest frocks. She gazed for a moment wistfully at the daintier, prettier things, ribbons, sashes, the light summer hat, but forbore to put in anything more than she had been told to do. She then put on her newest frock and with the bundle under her arm went on downstairs, pausing to give but one farewell look at her room. Her grandfather and Paulette were throwing on the last spadefuls of earth to cover up the spot where they had buried the valuables. Then they tramped it down. Paulette craftily heaped dead branches, stripped vines and odds and ends upon the place to make it look like a mere dump heap. Lucie followed her grandfather to the house. As they passed through the kitchen she saw baskets filled with provisions. In the hall were satchels and bags. She watched her grandfather take a bunch of keys from his pocket, open a drawer in her father’s desk, and take therefrom a bundle of papers which he stowed away inside his coat. Presently Paulette came in laden with baskets and bundles. “You have too much there, Paulette,” said Mons. Du Bois. “Better throw them or give them away than leave them for the _boches_,” she responded grimly. “The chickens, Ninette the goat, Mousse, we cannot leave them,” cried Lucie in distress. “We must,” declared Paulette doggedly. “Mousse will be able to fend for himself; he is a good mouser. The chickens,” she made a little dubious sound. “Le bon Dieu knows what will become of them.” “All our pretty hens, the beautiful big cocks, and poor Ninette. Is it not possible that we can take them to some safe place?” “Where?” asked Paulette sarcastically. “I don’t know. O, I don’t know, but it seems so very dreadful.” “They will not be here long,” replied Paulette gruesomely with a lift of her eyebrows.