They left the road, turned into a field, red with poppies, and reached the modest shelter to find it, if not very clean, at least empty. Some bits of rope hanging from a nail, and a pile of straw gave sole evidence of any former presence, if one does not include the barnyard odor. “It is not a palace,” declared Paulette, “but it is a shelter and out of the way. I think the owners have fled, so one may rest assured that it will not be invaded. Rest here, child, but do not permit yourself to be seen. I will leave the baskets and bundles so as to be the quicker in returning. The little dog will be a protection.” “From what?” asked Lucie in alarm. “From nothing,” returned Paulette with a wry smile. “From frogs in the pond, crickets in the grass maybe.” Thus reassured Lucie took a seat on the pile of straw just inside the door while Paulette deposited the baskets near by, Pom Pom looking interestedly on. As Paulette started off with many assurances of a speedy return. Pom Pom looked questioningly after her. Was he to go, too? His eyes inquired of Lucie. “No, no, Pom, you are to stay with me,” she told him, and with a sigh of content the tired little creature dropped down on the straw, and, with head on paws, went off to sleep. It was very quiet. For a while one could not realize that so lately war had been so close at hand, that shrieking bombs had flown overhead, that screaming of shells, booming of guns, whir of airplanes had disturbed this peace, and had wrought destruction in passing this little corner of the world. The sun went down leaving clouds of flaming red which turned to pallid gray. Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. Once or twice there was a distant roar of guns. Lucie wondered sorrowfully if it came from her town or some other. She began to feel very hungry, but concluded to wait for Paulette who should return at any moment. It grew darker and darker, but no Paulette. “If I wait till it grows any darker,” decided Lucie, “I shall not be able to find the food.” She moved over to the basket, remembering that Paulette had supplied, for their noonday meal, bread, butter, cheese, roasted chicken. As Pom Pom heard her at the basket he pricked up his ears, then arose with a yawn and wagged his tail. “You are hungry, too, poor Pom Pom,” said Lucie lifting the lid of the basket. “Ciel!” she exclaimed as she peered down into the contents of the basket, “it is not food at all which we have here. The basket which held that must have gone with grandfather in the wagon. What a misfortune! No doubt Paulette thought she handed up the one which holds the utensils. She was flurried and the two are exactly alike. I wish she would return so we could join those others and get the food. I have half a mind to go on. To be sure I could carry never these things, but perhaps they would be safe here and some one could return for them.”