“First come to the house and see grandmother and grandfather,” said Annette. “They are so impatient to see you, my aunt, too, for you see this is the home of my grandmother’s sister.” “And my old home,” put in Victor. “Really, Victor? I never dreamed of all this,” she repeated. Annette urged her toward the house where stood Monsieur and Madame Le Brun ready to welcome her. The old lady held out trembling hands and drew Lucie close, kissing her on each cheek. “Ah, my little girl,” she said, “we did not dream when we parted that such sad things could happen to our dear France.” Mons. Le Brun wiped his eyes as he faltered out: “Your grandfather, my old and valued friend, he is no more. It is hard to believe that the good God has taken him, but I thank heaven that you are spared; and your father, he is safe, is he not?” “So far as we know,” returned Lucie, “but my mother, we do not know where she is.” “In good time, in good time,” said Mons. Le Brun soothingly. “And here is Madame Guerin, Victor’s grandmother, who is eager to see you.” Lucie saw a little bright-eyed woman who greeted her affectionately, and who then went forward to speak to Paulette and Odette and bring them into the house. “It is so wonderful to see you,” said Annette, who could scarcely take her eyes off her newly recovered friend. “When Victor wrote to ask about your coming I could scarcely contain myself with joy, for I felt as if you were lost utterly. Oh, we shall have happy days together in spite of hard times.” “So it was Victor who thought of it.” “Did he not tell you? It is like him to put a commendable thing upon some one else. Come here, Victor, and tell Lucie about how you managed this thing.” So Victor came over from where he was being adored by his grandmother and told his tale. “You see,” he began, “when your father knew that Paris was getting to be unsafe and that Paulette was anxious to get you away, he asked me if I could think of any place where you might be protected and happy and where Paulette could also be. Immediately I thought of this, my own home. I knew my grandmother needed help in the fields and I thought it would be brighter for all if you could join Annette. Moreover, I knew my grandmother would be only too glad to have you come, and that it would be a consolation to your father to know you were among friends. I told him my plan. He urged me to write at once and so there you are; the thing was accomplished.” “And well accomplished,” said Annette with satisfaction. “And where did you see my father?” asked Lucie. Victor looked surprised. “It is easy to see him. Didn’t you know that he and I are in the same brigade?” “I didn’t know, but I am glad it is so. Where is Odette? I want Annette to meet her. She is such a dear girl, Annette, and we are great friends.” “The little peasant girl, do you mean?” asked Annette rather superciliously. “Joan of Arc was a peasant girl,” returned Lucie reproachfully. “So she was,” agreed Annette.