"As soon as we could, my mother and I organized a little branch of La Croix Rouge in our village and did what we could. We had many people to help and so spent most of our time making bandages from old linen. We were told then that the wounded might be sent back across the Marne to be cared for by us and that our houses must be made ready to use as hospitals. But the wounded were not cared for by us, not in those early weeks of the war. You know what took place, Madame. Our soldiers were defeated; it is now an old story. One night when the battle line was drawing closer and closer to our home we were warned to flee. But my mother could not, would not believe the word when it came and so we waited too long. We had only a farm wagon and an old horse with which to make our escape, our other horses and car having been requisitioned for the army." This time, when Yvonne hesitated, Mrs. Burton had a cowardly wish that she would not go on with her story, so easy it was to anticipate what might follow. In this moment Yvonne lived over again the night in her life she could never forget. Instead of the soft lapping of the waves against the sides of the ship, the young French girl was hearing the booming of guns, the shrieking of shells and the final patter of bullets like a falling rain. "I would prefer not to tell you anything more in detail, Mrs. Burton," Yvonne afterwards added more calmly than one could have thought possible. "The night of our attempted escape we were overtaken by the enemy and my little brother was killed; a few days later my mother died of the shock and exposure. I don't know just how things happened. I remember I was alone one night in a woods with a battle going on all around me. Next morning I believe the Germans began a retreat. A French soldier found me and took me with him to the home of some French people. I think I must have been with them several weeks before I was myself again. Then I learned that our chateau had been burned and my brother reported killed. "One day an American friend, who had learned of our family tragedy, came to see me and decided that it would be wiser to take me home to his own family in the United States. I was so dazed and miserable he believed I would be happier there and would sooner learn to forget. Of course after a time I was happier, but of course one can never forget. So at last I persuaded my friends I must be allowed to return to my own country, that I must help my people who were still going through all that I had endured. My friends were opposed to the idea, but because I insisted, at last they gave their consent. Then after our boat sailed I felt I could not go back to France. I was afraid. I remembered the long night in the woods--the German soldiers----" Mrs. Burton's arms were about the girl.