Little Jeanne of France

Again silence and then Margot said, "I think your aunt would let you play if you would ask her to."

"No," Jeanne replied, "I would not ask her. I must show the clothes. She could not sell them if I did not show them first."

There was a short silence and then again came Jeanne's voice, "I just want to be a little girl. I want to play!" The last word ended in a sob.

For the next few moments Auntie Sue did not hear anything. Indeed she hardly knew anything, so stunned and shocked was she.

Auntie Sue did not know how it was that she ever opened the door. She did not know how she ever came to leave that apartment.

It was fortunate that Madame Villard and Margot's mother were out. Children do not always notice things the way grown people do.

But Margot wondered, after Jeanne and her aunt had left, why Auntie Sue's eyes had been so big and frightened and why she had hardly said good-bye.

CHAPTER XVII

A CALL FOR HELP

Major d'Artrot called to his wife, "Come; see! A letter has arrived which calls me to Paris. I must leave at once."

Madame d'Artrot read the letter.

"Dear, dear Major d'Artrot," it said, "You are my only friend, and I must ask you to come to my aid. I am in trouble. I need help and I am ill. Please come to me.

    Suzanne Moreau."

"Why, that is Auntie Sue," said Madame d'Artrot, a surprised note in her voice. "She has such a successful shop, I am told. What can be the matter?"

"That is what I shall find out soon," answered the Major. And he made hasty preparations to leave for Paris.

When Major d'Artrot returned to his farm two days later, he brought with him a little girl.

Jeanne was a very white-faced little girl.

Major d'Artrot said, "I have brought little Jeanne to be our guest until her aunt is better."

And all the little d'Artrots flocked about Jeanne and tried to make her feel at home.

It was all so strange to little Jeanne from the city. She had been taken away from Auntie – Auntie, who lay ill and needed her.

But the Major told her to come. He told her that Auntie wished her to come with him. If Auntie wished it, Jeanne must go. But otherwise she would never – could never – have left poor sick Auntie Sue.

Once outside in the fresh, pure country air, Jeanne began to forget a little. With rabbits and dogs and cats about her and the merry chattering of the Major's children, she could not help it.

Jeanne's eyes were alive, and her heart was gay. She was one of the little fairies of play, and that kind of fairy cannot remain sad for long.

Besides, the Major's children had games and playthings of which Jeanne had never before heard. Even Pierrot was excited. It was all Jeanne could do to hold him from jumping into the little stream.

Jeanne soon had the young d'Artrots acquainted with Pierrot. Indeed, the young d'Artrots fell quite in love with sprightly Pierrot.

In the meantime the Major recounted to his wife the happenings which had befallen him in Paris.

"Poor woman!" he told Madame d'Artrot, as he described Suzanne's plight. "She is ill because of the wrong she committed so many years ago. She could tell nobody about it.

"But she finally discovered that Jeanne was unhappy, and that was too much for her to bear. She realized then that she was being punished for her wrong. And so she decided that before it was too late she would confess!"

"So she told you this terrible story?" asked Madame d'Artrot.

"Yes, and asked me to see Madame Villard," replied the Major.

"And when will you break this news to Madame?" the Major's wife inquired.

"I have already done so," he answered quietly. "That is, I called upon Madame Villard before leaving Paris. I told her that I had traced her lost grandchild. I told her that I wished her to come to our home to-morrow. But I did not tell her any more."

"Ah, poor Madame Villard! How happy I am for her! What a joy this will be for her!" sighed Madame d'Artrot.

The Major smiled and agreed with his wife.

"And what a joy for this poor little play-starved child!" he said, looking out of the window at the happy band of children.

They were romping and making the air ring with glad sounds.

The next morning Jeanne arose early. Being on a farm was something so different and thrilling to this child of the city that every noise outside her window seemed to call her.

She put on her little black apron and went out into the brisk country air.

The farm animals greeted her, and the little stream gurgled good morning. This was the most beautiful feeling that life had ever given Jeanne.

She skipped about the farm, seeing and feeling and smelling the country, freshness, and morning. It was beautiful.

And then she thought of Auntie Sue. Ah, poor Auntie Sue! If only she could be here with Jeanne! If only they could forget that shop and come to a place like this! Why hadn't Auntie Sue ever told her about places like this?

As Jeanne's thoughts flew, her little feet flew, too. Soon she found herself walking along the country road. New wonders met her eyes and ears and nose with every step. Her sadness was nearly forgotten, until she stopped.

There, in front of Jeanne, were countless crosses – crossed of white, crosses of brown, all in rows.

Margot had told her about the soldiers' burying grounds in the Argonne and in other places of France. This was a soldiers' burying ground.

The little girl stood and wondered.

She wondered about her own soldier father.

Just then, a big motor car stopped not far away, and Jeanne watched a black-gowned lady and child step out. They carried flowers in their arms. They went to a little brown cross and they knelt.

The tears welled up in Jeanne's eyes. Ah, how she, too needed to pray! How she needed a little brown cross to kneel to – to talk to!

Everything was making Jeanne cry. She was wondering again about Auntie Sue. How strangely Auntie had acted! And she had sent Jeanne away!

CHAPTER XVIII