This relieved the situation in most directions, though Paulette had many misgivings about trusting herself to the guardianship of so young a lad as the little André was, and went forth in fear and trembling. Lucie, on the contrary, was delighted at being able to see something of the city. The rain had ceased, though it was still cloudy. André chattered away, pointed out landmarks, answered questions glibly, and was altogether a very satisfactory companion. Lucie thought Paulette stalked along with the air of being ready to challenge any one who looked her way, and though she bore herself stoically when they came to the crowded crossings, Lucie could see that she was in an agony of fear and dread. At last they reached the street and number which should be that of Jacques Moulin’s establishment. It was closed, doors locked, windows barred. A notice read: “_Fermez; le propriétaire est sous les drapeaux_.” “_Mon Dieu!_” exclaimed Paulette, “but this is a thing terrible.” Lucie was not so easily daunted. “We will inquire next door,” she said, and forthwith proceeded to investigate. An elderly man answered her questions. “Jacques Moulin?” Yes, to be sure. He had gone, departed to the war. The business had been suspended until after the war; who knew how long that might be? Had one Antoine Du Bois been here recently inquiring for this same Moulin? The man considered. He shook his head. No, there had been no one of that name, of that he was positive. Entirely at a loss what to do next, the little party turned away after having secured the address of the firm with which Jacques Moulin had consolidated. Paulette scarcely spoke on the way back; she was too deeply occupied with puzzling out plans for the future. Lucie, too, though she kept one ear open for André’s chatter, was disturbed in her mind. “What are we to do, Paulette? What are we to do?” she asked once they were back in their rooms. Paulette dived down into the depths of a pocket under her petticoats and drew forth a queer little pouch the contents of which she shook out into her lap, many sous, some franc pieces, a few five franc coins, one paper note. She counted it all over laboriously. “This will serve for a time,” she said at last, “and then the deluge. At once we must find cheap lodgings, and then I shall look for employment; it should not be difficult to find this when so many men have gone. I shall succeed. Oh yes, I shall succeed.” Lucie sat mute and distressed while Paulette made her calculations. “But, Paulette,” she broke out finally, “is it necessary to do this? My grandfather surely will appear very soon, and then there is my father’s pay. When he knows our needs, of course he will see to it that we have money.”