The interior of the Bretton home was extremely simple; and simple, too, was the supper laid out upon the sand-scoured table. In war time even the more well-to-do families were living on the plainest of rations, that all the food which could possibly be spared should be sent to the men on the fighting lines. There was no sugar, little salt, a scant quantity of flour, and no meat to be had in the village. Still no one complained. Was not each serving his country by denying himself those things which, after all, could easily be done without? Healthy boys and girls were as well off—nay, better—without cakes and candies, the grown-ups said; and even the children themselves had come to admit this.

Therefore the little group ate without comment their frugal meal, thankful that their food was as plenty as it was. The kind old priest, like his people, was accustomed to scanty fare, and would have been the first to reprimand his parishioners had any of them offered him anything else. Simple, however, as was the supper it was well-cooked and satisfying; and after the chairs had been pushed back, and Marie and her mother had washed the few dishes, a candle was lighted and the Brettons, together with their guest, drew their seats into the circle of its radiance.

"I wish, Father, you would tell us how they make velvet," ventured Marie, who delighted in the CurÉ's stories. "That, too, is made from silk, isn't it?"

"Velvet!" ejaculated the priest. "What a frivolous little damsel you are! Are you planning already how you will one day dress yourself in the clothes of a princess, my dear?"

Mischievously he pinched her cheek.

Marie laughed.

"No, indeed, Father. It was only that on Sunday when I saw the hangings about the high altar it came to me of a sudden to wonder how the velvet was made."

"You would much better have been thinking of your prayers, naughty one," replied PÈre Benedict, touching her hair lightly with his long, slender fingers. "However, in order that you may not a second time fill your mind with such questions I will tell you what I can about velvet making."

With a sigh of pleasure Marie settled back onto the tiny stool at the priest's feet.

They all loved to listen to the Father's tales.

"He is better than any story-book!" Pierre often declared.

"The first velvet we know anything about," began the CurÉ, "was probably brought from India, where it must have been woven on hand-looms. When the Greeks and Romans invaded the East, among other spoils they brought back with them great webs of crimson velvet, with which they immediately began to decorate their palaces. They had no idea how it was made, and of course did not give it the name it now bears. Instead they called it Villosus, meaning shaggy hair. It is from this quaint old term that our modern word velvet is derived."

The children smiled.

"It was not strange they should have chosen that name, for you must remember they had never seen woven material with a fur-like pile, or nap, such as velvet has; and it must have puzzled them not a little. So you see it is due to these conquests of the Orient that velvet found its way into the world. As time went on the supply of velvet increased. People in other places than India learned to make it. By the fourteenth century it was extensively used for hangings in the churches of France and Italy, and was also much seen at court. Robes of blue velvet marvelously embroidered in gold, which evidently had been worn by church dignitaries, have been found in an old French church, and are carefully preserved as curiosities, since all the velvet of that period was either black or of a crimson color. Now as lace-making was one of the arts of the time, and as much wonderful hand-made lace was used on vestments and altar-cloths, you can readily understand how velvet was a rare means of showing it off, and became a favorite material for church use."

He paused thoughtfully.

"And not only did it rise in favor in the churches, but also kings, queens, and noblemen purchased all of it they could afford, to adorn themselves. It was far more expensive than silk, which at that early date was very costly. In fact it is only since present day manufacture has mastered the art of making velvet less expensively that its price has lessened. Although some of the rare patterns and some of the silkiest qualities are still made on hand-looms, the greater part of it is now made by machinery. The coronation robes for the King and Queen of England, for example, are always made on hand-looms."

"Is velvet hard to make, Father?" inquired Pierre.

"Yes. Good velvet weavers are few. You see when our king Louis XIV of France drove the Huguenots, who were famous silk and velvet weavers, out of the country, they took with them the trades of silk and velvet making. Some carried the art to England; some to Germany. The German towns of Elberfeld and Krefeld now make a large part of the velvet used by the world—or did before the war. Krefeld alone has one hundred and twenty velvet factories, besides many others devoted to dyeing the silk from which the velvet is made. The German Government gives to those who will follow the industry free instruction in the chemistry of dyes, in designing, and in other branches furthering the manufacture. As a consequence the making of velvet has increased there until now many varieties formerly only obtainable in other countries are now woven in Germany."

"But some of our own French cities make velvet, too, Father," protested Marie.

"Ah, surely, dear child! The velvet from Lyons has long been famous. Lyons and Genoa, many persons say, make the most beautiful velvets there are to be had. Some are of exquisite design, having great flowers, scrolls, or garlands brocaded upon them; others are of solid color—a rare and rich shade—and are made from the purest of silk, which gives to them a sheen wondrous to see. Such velvets are, of course, very costly, and only the rich can afford them; but as a product they are a magnificent achievement. You see velvet-making has now become a well-perfected art. Time has eliminated ancient methods, and bettered machinery so that effects never before dreamed of can now be obtained. There is, for example, the soft panne velvet made by pressing the goods after it has been woven until it presents a satiny finish, then there is what is known as mirror velvet, a product woven from more than one shade of silk, and which in a strong light has a changeable quality."

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" murmured Madame Bretton, who was leaning forward and listening as intently as were her boy and girl.

"Yes; all that man thinks out with his brain and perfects with his hands is wonderful," agreed the priest. "It is a test of ingenuity and patience, and as such should be respected. Moreover, velvet is a useful product. The best silk varieties are very durable. They ravel little, and can be steamed almost to their original freshness when they become worn. Of course cheap velvets and plushes—which are merely velvets with a longer nap—are another matter. There is much cotton in them, and consequently they catch the dirt, and are soon defaced. More and more they are passing out of use as coverings for furniture, or for seats in cars and halls. The material cannot be cleaned, and as a collector of dust is most unhygienic. It is well it should give place to something that is not such a fosterer of germs."

"Won't you tell us how they make the fur on the velvet, Father?" begged Marie, who was fearing every moment that the good priest would insist on starting homeward.

The CurÉ laughed.

"You'll have me here until midnight, little one," said he. "Should I tell you just how velvet is made it would take me hours; nor, in fact, am I sure I know every step of the process. I do know, however, that the soft nap is made by drawing the threads of the silk warp over an extra wire which leaves millions of tiny loops standing upright, and packed very close together all over it. In order that the velvet may be smooth, these loops must be perfectly even and very near together. The closer they are, the more rich and beautiful will be the velvet. It is when these loops are cut that we get the silky sheen of the goods. If they are not cut we have instead the material known as uncut velvet, largely used for upholstery purposes. Yet another variety called raised velvet is made by having loops of different lengths so arranged as to form a pattern. Sometimes, too, we see figures of velvet woven into backgrounds of satin. I am sure I need not tell you the name for that sort of goods."

"Brocade!" Marie cried.

"Quite right!" nodded the priest.

"And velveteen, like my trousers, Father—what about that?" questioned Pierre.

"Velveteen? Velveteen, my boy, was first made in England, and is a less expensive material, made largely of cotton."

Pierre looked disappointed.

"Nay, nay, son," exclaimed the kindly priest, noticing his face, "do not scowl at your clothing. Velveteen is a warm and durable kind of cloth, and is most useful. Only a prince would be raising silkworms arrayed in a costume of real velvet; and even then, were he to do it, he would be an extravagant fellow."

"Is velvet made in America?" Madame Bretton asked.

"America makes almost no velvet cloth, but much velvet ribbon, some of which is very fine. The American mills also turn out a great deal of cheaper, cotton-backed velvet ribbon. The best quality of their silk velvet variety is made on looms the exact width of the goods, and has a selvage and back of satin."

"Can people make——" began Pierre.

But the priest had sprung resolutely to his feet, and was standing with his fingers pressed to his ears.

"No more! No more!" he cried. "Not another question will I answer. See, it is already past your bedtime. Besides, I myself must be getting home. Would you keep me here forever? Run fetch my hat and stick—off with you!"

They flew to do his bidding.

Then with a good-night kiss on the brow of each child, and a wave of his hand to their mother, he was gone.