There was instant silence, then encouraging applause, then silence. "But yes, you will sing it," urged Angele, seeing my panic. Now, in the first place, I cannot carry a tune and in the second place I knew just one verse of the "Star Spangled Banner"--and I was not over sure of that one! I have never felt a shame equal to mine as I struggled desperately through the first verse of my country's song! They applauded madly. I might have been Caruso to judge from the racket they made. But Louis was not satisfied. "Permit me also to sing it for you," he said, and sing it he did--all three verses of it,--with a ring to his voice that thrilled me and held me spellbound. I asked him where he had learned it. It seems, he modestly explained, an American ambulance driver had employed his time in the trenches teaching it to him. After supper we danced to the music of a string band. But Louis sat in a corner, surrounded by a group of older men and I could see they were in earnest, thrashing out the latest developments at the Front. That gave me a chance with Angele--or rather--half a chance, because her every thought was with her brother. "He is all the world to me," she said. She watched over him in spite of himself and when she concluded he must be tired, she whispered it to his friends and they began, one by one, to leave, in spite of his protests. He went with them to the door, shouting, waving, kissing his hand. When he came back to us he did look a bit done up. "Ah, Angele, it is good to be at home," he said, and then, as though fearing that might seem a confession of weakness, he hastened to add, "for a little time!" We spent six wonderfully lazy days in the heart of summer. It was there that I came to know the poppies which were so like Angele, so radiant, so graceful--so lovely. I told her once that she put me in mind of them. "I am glad," she replied, "because I, too, love them." My leave was not up for eleven days all told, and Louis had persuaded me to stay on at the little cottage after his return to duty. I did not need much persuading. It seemed as though I could never tear myself away from that tiny house shaded by tall trees. The night before he left I don't think any of us slept a wink. The neighbors arrived, laden with all sorts of dainties--cakes and bread they had made for him to take back. They brought packages for their own boys, too, that he cheerfully promised to distribute. They gave him letters and a thousand messages, which he repeated painstakingly after them. He was so gentle with them, so eager to do as they asked. He was particularly pleased over a little bunch of wild flowers a tiny girl had gathered for him, the flowers were drooping and faded from being clasped in her hot little hand, but he told her again and again how much he loved them, until her little cheeks glowed pink with joy and her eyes shone like stars.