“Looks as though you mean to make a scrapper of her,” laughed Porky. “No, she has got to grow up just as much like Mom as she can.” “Well, Mom likes boys all right,” was Porky’s reminder. “Yes, but I bet when she was young she never googled at ’em or passed notes or accidentally sat down in the same seat with them or any of that. She isn’t that kind. You can _see_ she isn’t.” And Beany, whose wavy hair and clear blue eyes had already caused him to suffer, nodded his head vigorously. “Go ahead!” said Porky, “I think it’s great having an assortment, only I didn’t want you to feel as though you had the worst end of the bargain.” “Not a bit of it!” said Beany. “Not a bit, and I’ll lend you my girl to look at or play with whenever you want.” “Much obliged,” said Porky, “but I can’t help thinking it might be a good plan to break the news to somebody.” “Your kidlet is asleep, so he won’t notice. Suppose you go back there and see what they are doing.” “I can see from here,” said Porky with a slight shudder. “They are sort of boarding up a place to put the youngster’s mother. They have no way of getting a casket or even a box for her.” “It will be fixed all right,” said Beany. “The Captain does everything all right. He will fix it just as well as ever he can. I’d like to go over and see just what they are doing.” “Better not; you might wake the baby, and we don’t want her to see her mother again.” “Well, anyhow, one thing is settled. The pair is ours,” said Porky with a sigh. “They are ours if we can have them,” said his brother. “You watch me!” said Porky grimly. CHAPTER IV DECIDING DESTINIES Tired of carrying the children about, the two boys sat down on a bench beside what had once been a large barn. The destructive fire started by the invaders had apparently been checked by a heavy rainfall as the half burned structures and charred timbers testified. There was still a chance to rebuild and save enough from the wreckage to enable the owners to start their lives afresh. But alas, of those owners but two were left--the two tiny, terrified, war-racked creatures in the arms of the two Boy Scouts. While their little charges slept, the boys continued their talk in a low tone. Their arms, unaccustomed to such burdens, were tired and stiff by the time one of the officers left the distant group and approached them. “Why don’t you lay the poor little cubs down somewhere?” he asked, looking round vainly for a fit place. “No place to put ’em, sir,” said Porky, “and every time we start to move them, they clutch us and start to scream. As long as we sort of keep ’em hugged up tight, they sleep.” “It’s awful--awful!” said the officer. “I wish I knew what to do with them now. There’s not an asylum of any sort, not a place fit to leave them within miles and miles, and what’s to become of them _I_ don’t know. Every orphan asylum in France is crowded.”