“We can ask Miss Lowndes. I am sure she can tell us. Please, Odette, promise me that you will do nothing till I find out from Miss Lowndes.” “And in the meantime am I to accept charity from Henriette Jacquet? No, I thank you. She has endured me simply because of my aunt. She will be leaving in a few days at the most.” Lucie sat silent and troubled. She would like to have said at once that Odette must come in with Paulette and herself, but she was not sure how Paulette would regard such an arrangement, and Paulette could speak her mind most positively when she wished, without regard to those concerned. However, as if Paulette had read her mind she presently appeared from next door. “Well, my child,” she began, “I do not intend to stay here to be annihilated by those Boches. Enough of the city for me. We go. We go to the fields, to the trees, the good earth. For me I have no regrets.” “When, when do we go?” asked Lucie eagerly. “As soon as I learn some things that must be learned,” responded Paulette oracularly. “In the meantime we prepare. You will not be _triste_, you, to go?” “I shall regret nothing but leaving Odette.” “There is nothing to regret there,” said Paulette serenely, “for she goes with us.” Odette sprang to her feet and threw her arms around Paulette. “I? It is I, Odette Moreau, that you mean? I do not then work in the munition factory among strangers, but I shall be with you, madame, and my Lucie?” “Why not?” returned Paulette. “Have you so many relatives that you cannot go with us? I have settled it all with this Henriette Jacquet, the stupid.” She did not explain why this epithet, but Odette had reason to believe that Henriette had not favored the arrangement, and that her objections were based upon a possible expense to herself. Lucie settled herself comfortably on the arm of Paulette’s chair. “Now tell us all about it,” she said. “You love to be mysterious, Paulette, but this is no time for mysteries. Neither Odette nor I are in any frame of mind to be tantalized. Just go ahead and tell us as much as you know.” Taken in this way Paulette was disposed to be communicative. “I have told you that all is not ready, but so much is true that we adopt Odette into the family. I have spoken to Mathilde. This Henriette goes. We open the door leading from our rooms into hers. The rooms are taken by the month, and the month is not up. We become one establishment in this manner. By the end of the month we learn where we shall go, and the rooms are given up.” This was quite a satisfactory report, although Paulette did keep back the fact that Henriette was ready to go at once, because Paulette had made it possible by paying the difference in the rent from the present date to the end of the month. So poor, old, worn, cross-grained Amelie Durand passed into forgetfulness, and Henriette was not long in making her exit, leaving no memories which in any way affected the lives of her associates in Paris.