Oh, it is such a desolate place now, across the Green, since they went away,--all shut up and dark and lonely! But Monsieur has left the key with us, and asked us to go through it once in a while to see that everything was all right. In the spring he intends to have an architect come and restore the "long kitchen" to exactly its former appearance, and to put all the rest of the house in good shape. He says that, since Louis wishes it so much, he shall come back here whenever there is an opportunity, that is, whenever his duties will permit, and that he can live here as long as he likes. That is glorious news. We are all so happy about it, and Louis was just wild with joy. But _will_ he come back? That is the awful question. Aviation is dangerous enough, even here in a peaceful country. What earthly chance of life has one over there in the midst of this horrible war? It makes me shudder every time I think of it, and I don't dare think of it much. I have awful nightmares about it every night. The Imp has taken to reading up everything she can find on the subject, and she insists on telling us hair-raising tales about the dangers and accidents that happen to military aviators. I asked her once if it didn't simply make her sick to think of such things in connection with Louis, but she only said: "Oh, no! Louis's not going to have things like that happen to _him_. He's different!" I only wish I had her faith. Louis's departure with the marquis was a nine-days' wonder here, of course. Everybody talked about it incessantly for a while, speculating at the greatest length on why in the world a French nobleman should do such an eccentric thing. But naturally, no one except we three girls ever guessed the truth, or ever will. For it was the marquis's wish that, even as things turned out, the truth about the dauphin should never be made public. We have all gone back to school, and are plodding along in the same prosaic way. The only thing we're doing that really interests us is to knit an outfit for Louis--a sweater, a helmet, some wristlets, and socks. He said before he left that he'd probably need them, and we promised to make them as quickly as possible. September 28. We had a letter from Louis to-day,--the first since he left. Of course it caused the wildest excitement. He said they had a safe voyage across, and he wasn't seasick a minute, though the marquis and old Mr. Meadows were very ill. Louis said that they went straight to Paris, and there the marquis used his influence and had him enlisted in the French Air Service. In a few days Louis was notified to report for duty at the Hôtel des Invalides. Here he went through his physical examination, passed it, and then was sent to Dijon to get his outfit, which is provided by the government. After going through all that, he was sent to Pau (we've looked up these places in the Atlas, and know exactly where they are!) to become a member of the flying-school.