It appears that while the German army was still in Ypres, some 12,000 British soldiers, having followed on its track, stopped at a little distance from the town, sending word to the burgomaster that, if he wished, they were ready to attack the enemy. M. Colaert, however, not desiring to see the town given up to pillage and destruction, was opposed to a British advance. By this time the whole town was on the _qui vive_, and no one thought of anything else but how best to secure any valuables that they had; for the stories of what had happened in other parts of Belgium were not at all reassuring. Several tried to leave the town; but the few trains that were running were kept exclusively for the troops, while the Germans sent back all those who left on foot. To increase the panic, no less than five aeroplanes passed during the day; and the knowledge that the enemy had left soldiers with two mitrailleuses at the Porte de Lille, to guard the town, completed the feeling of insecurity. Moreover--as the soldiers had literally emptied the town of all the eatables they could lay their hands on--sinister rumours of famine were soon spread abroad. Reverend Mother Prioress sent out immediately for some sacks of flour, but none was to be got; and we were obliged to content ourselves with wheatmeal instead. Rice, coffee, and butter we had, together with some tins of fish. The potatoes were to come that very day, and great was our anxiety lest the cart would be met by the Germans and the contents seized. However, the farmer put off coming for some days, and at length arrived safely with the load, a boy going in front to see that no soldiers were about. The milk-woman, whose farm was a little way outside the town, was unable to come in, and no meat could be got for love or money; so we were obliged to make the best of what we had, and each day Mother Prioress went to the kitchen herself to see if she could not possibly make a new dish from the never varying meal--rice, Quaker oats, and maizena.