Paulette examined them with interest. She was as full of superstitions as most peasant folk. “One never can tell,” she remarked, “a little thing that seems ridiculous, a horseshoe, for instance, brings good luck. It is worth while not to pass by anything. I have no capacity for making such things; if I had--” She paused but Lucie understood that she wished that her boy might have two of the farcical little mascots. He shall have, Lucie told herself, remembering those Odette was keeping for some soldier. Why not Jean? Then came Victor to make his adieux and to get the little parcel to take to Honoré. “It seems much smaller than it did,” he said as Lucie handed it to him. She laughed. “And yet I have not abstracted the socks. Here also, Victor, is something for you; Nenette and Rintintin.” “Ah-h!” Victor took them with a pleased look. “You made them for me?” “I made them, though Odette helped; she is so clever, you know. They bear a charm, as perhaps you have heard. They will keep danger from you.” “They will do something else; they will remind me of my little friend, Lucie, who has taken the trouble to make them for me.” He fastened them to his coat. “I made inquiries about your father to-day and learn that he has been removed to another place, a chateau, where he, with other convalescents, will remain till they can return to their regiments. I have written to him, and have asked him to communicate with you as soon as possible. Here is his address.” “I am glad, so glad. A thousand thanks, dear Victor, for doing this. But my mother, my mother?” Victor shook his head sadly. “I am sorry, but there is no news there. But cheer up, dear little Lucie, do not look so mournful. Any day you may have news of her. In this war surprises are what one must expect. You will write to me and tell me how you prosper?” “Oh, yes, and you?” “Will do the same. I shall cherish Nenette and Rintintin as if they were my own children. I came only to say good-by, for I must soon be getting off.” “It is sad that you must go.” “But has it not been a wonderful holiday? When I get another we will celebrate again. Adieu! Adieu! et _bon chance_!” “_Bon chance! Bon chance!_ Victor. Adieu! Adieu!” from Lucie. “Adieu, monsieur. _Que Dieu vous soit en aide_,” from Paulette. And Victor was clattering down the stairs and out into the dim streets. But the small shadow that followed him a trifle in the rear was not cast by the bobbing forms of Nenette and Rintintin. CHAPTER XI A DOG AND HIS DAY