"I have brought this little girl from France. She is one of--those many--who has lost everyone and everything--through this war!" He was trying to choose his words carefully so as to spare the little girl as much as he could.
Realizing his embarrassment Mr. Everett interrupted him. "Pat, dear, take the little girl and show her the birds." Patricia, rather reluctantly led the little stranger off to the small conservatory beyond the dining-room where, in beautiful cages, many different kinds of birds sang joyously.
"Thanks, sir," the officer drew a breath. "Taking care of this small lady has been the most difficult thing I ever attempted. I'll tell you the story, sir, so that you can understand. About six months ago a young French officer was attached to our company. He directed the scouting. There were six of us picked out to work with him. I was one of them. We did some mighty ticklish work, sir--for a few weeks there." Almost involuntarily the man's fingers went to the small cross of honor he wore on his tunic. "And we fellows get pretty well acquainted, you know--just lying hours in a shell hole next to another man is like knowing him for years and years back home. It was like that with this Emile LaDue and me. I found out that his father and mother had been born in America--they were both dead, for one night he told me that if anything happened to him--and there was plenty of chance for something to happen any minute--it would leave his little sister all alone in the world. He never talked much about himself--back in the lines he was the bravest, cheeriest one in the crowd, laughing at every sort of hardship, but when we'd get out he'd get quiet and I knew what was on his mind. He'd tell little things at different times. It seems he'd made a promise to his mother that he'd bring the little girl to America to live--and he'd kept putting it off, and then the war came along and he thought it might be too late! That bothered him more than anything else. The last night I was with him we were hiding in a dirty hole--four of us--almost covered with mud and water. He and I lay close together; we could only whisper, for some of the Boche had seen us and we had to keep low until it was darker. We'd been there for hours, not more'n just breathing when he whispered suddenly in my ear: 'Allan, I may not come out of this--and you may. Will you----' You know some of the boys over there have premonitions and they're pretty nearly always true and I suppose he had one! I knew what he wanted to say, and he'd been the bravest and best pal a man could ever find and we'd faced death a hundred times, side by side, and he'd never flunked once, so I whispered: 'Don't you worry--just tell me where I can find your little sister.' He twisted around until he could get a hand into his pocket. He gave me a card. He said: 'She's all alone in the world! Take her back to America--I didn't make good! All her life my mother planned that and when she died I promised to do it!' He tried to tell me something about a box, but a star shell burst right next to us and we had to dig down into the mud and we scarcely breathed for fear the Boche snipers would hear us!" Capt. Allan's voice, halting through the story as though it hurt him to recall the bitter memories, suddenly broke.
"Just after that we crawled out--we had to do our job and get back with the stuff the Colonel wanted to know! We divided up--two of us went one way and two the other. I got over and through and back to our lines with the information and I won this"--touching his cross--"and got a sniper's bullet in the shoulder. I was put out of business then--for three weeks." He stopped again--it was very hard for him to tell his tale. Mr. Everett was giving occasional nods of sympathy.
"When I got back to my company they told me the Jerries had caught LaDue! He had almost gotten away when he was killed by a hand grenade. The other man with him was made a prisoner. The boys found LaDue when they advanced--they buried him out there with a lot of others! That was always the worst, sir--these good pals that you'd messed with and bunked with under the same muddy blankets and lived with through hours and hours of waiting for no one ever knew what--and then--just flesh and bones out in that desolation and buried--any old place----" He pulled himself together. "Excuse me, sir--I loved the boy--I'd have liked to have just said--oh, good luck, old chap--or something like that! Well, I asked for a furlough to hunt up the little sister and what did they do but order me back to the States on a special mission to the Intelligence Department. I had just twenty-four hours to find the child. I had no trouble, though--she was at the address out in St. Cloud, living with a queer old couple--the man was a veteran of the Franco-Prussian war and the wife raises flowers--only no one in France is buying flowers now! I suppose they were all living on what Emile was sending to them. They didn't want to let the child go--I think they were truly fond of her, but when I told them what I had promised Emile they never said another word. I had to break it to them that he had been killed! I was afraid of Renée crying and wondering how I'd comfort her and then I wished that she would cry! She was such a pathetic little thing--all she'd say was 'He told me it would be for America and France!' I tell you, sir, even the little ones are as brave as any!"
"Well, old Susette packed her clothes and I started back with her, though I hadn't the ghost of an idea where to take her! I haven't a home or any folks of my own, sir, but I said to myself--there's the Red Cross, they'll tell me! I had come to this town first, sir, so I just brought her along with me and--here we are!" He laughed ruefully. "I guess I didn't think the thing out very much! Over there, you know, homes are smashed up in a twinkling, and so many kiddies--like this little one--are left along by the wayside, that you don't stop to think but just gather 'em in! Our boys can't stand seeing the children suffer, sir--why, I've watched many a one just turn his whole mess right over to a bunch of kids--they're so hungry looking." He paused for a moment. "That's all, sir, and if you can find a place for Renée to live where she'll be safe and--happy, I'll gladly give half my pay and take her when I come back!"
The story of Renée LaDue finished, the officer stood very straight and looked anxiously at his listener.
Often during the story Mr. Everett had brushed something suspiciously like tears from his eyes. He rose quickly now and held out his hand.
"With what you boys are doing--and giving up--there isn't anything we who have to stay at home could refuse to do! Renée shall be taken care of--I promise you that! Nothing must be said about money. When the war is over and you return--then you shall come and claim her if you wish!"
The soldier's face beamed with pleasure.