This year in the southern portion of France it was March, not May, that came singing over the land. The days were soft and serene with the warmth and sunshine of late spring.

In front of the Chateau d’AmÉlie a peacock walked slowly across the lawn, spreading his tail and then arching his neck in an effort to behold his own grandeur. Near him two girls were walking up and down with a young man dressed in the uniform of a British officer. Not far away in a somewhat neglected garden a French peasant woman was laying a cloth on a wooden table and setting out cups and saucers of fine old china. It was self-evident that an afternoon meal of some kind was in preparation and that the two girls and young man were waiting for it to be made ready, and perhaps for other guests as well.

This was all taking place in the very neighborhood which a few months before had been overrun by the German troops after the retreat of the French army. But the French had returned unto their own again, at least in this particular vicinity where the Chateau d’AmÉlie had stood for several centuries. Six weeks after their retreat before the superior forces of the German enemy, the French had retaken their deserted trenches, after driving the enemy out of the neighborhood. More than this, they had afterwards forced the Germans to retire a quarter of a mile further back beyond the borders of Alsace-Lorraine.

Therefore happiness, or at least a degree of it, reigned once more in this portion of France, and in no place perhaps was there a fuller share than in the Chateau d’AmÉlie.

“What do you suppose has become of Captain Castaigne? He promised to join us at four o’clock,” one of the girls inquired carelessly.

Before her question could be answered a wheeled chair appeared at one side of the garden with a young man seated in it. His face and figure suggested a semi-invalid, but his costume revealed extreme care and elegance. Moreover, his expression was radiant.

“Mes amis, you are more than welcome,” he cried, speaking a rather absurd mixture of French and English. Then turning to the little old man at the back of his chair he urged him to hurry, until the chair, its driver and rider, fairly rollicked over the uneven lawn.

There Captain Castaigne gravely shook hands with his guests, Nona Davis and Barbara Meade, who had just come to the chateau from the little “Farmhouse with the Blue Front Door.” Afterwards he smiled at his friend Lieutenant Robert Hume, who was at present a visitor in his house.

“Mother will be here in a moment,” he explained. “She has asked me to beg her adored American girl friends to wait a few moments until she is able to be with them. The truth is, Madame la Comtesse is at present engaged in making petit gateaux—little cakes, I believe you say. She would not trust the peasant Emma with so delicate a commission. But where is Mademoiselle PaybodÉ? Surely she has not forgotten her promise!”

Captain Castaigne’s face had suddenly changed; he seemed to be both annoyed and disappointed. So as usual Barbara spoke impulsively without thinking beforehand.

“Oh, Eugenia is so tiresome!” she began with a little stamp of her foot. “Nona and I thought all along up until the very last minute that she was coming with us this afternoon. Then she insisted that she had a slight headache and had best rest and read so it would not grow worse. The truth is, I don’t believe she wanted to come. Besides, she had the audacity to announce that she thought we would have a better time without her.”

Then Barbara ceased her confession, conscious that Nona was frowning upon her and that it was scarcely good manners to have spoken so freely. When would she ever get over her dreadful western candor?

“I am sure Barbara is mistaken in at least a portion of her tirade,” Nona interrupted. “Eugenia did have a headache or else she could not have failed to wish to spend the afternoon with Madame Castaigne. Really, I don’t think Eugenia is very well, although she will not admit it. But since we came back to the farmhouse she has never been just the same. She does not do half such hard nursing as she once did and yet she is often tired and unlike herself. I expect——” Then Nona stopped talking and laughed, for she had discovered Barbara smiling upon her with wicked satisfaction. Having broken into the conversation to stem the flood of Barbara’s tactlessness, she had now plunged in even deeper than her friend.

There was no one, however, to save her from the results of her stupidity, for Henri Castaigne had flushed and looked miserably uncomfortable as soon as she spoke.

“There is small wonder that Miss PaybodÉ is not so strong as she once was. When I think of all that she went through in those miserable weeks with me, I cannot see how she endured it. It must have killed any one else. Then there was the secrecy and the long concealment even when I had sufficiently recovered to have been made a prisoner by the enemy. Such strength, such courage! Mon Dieu, how shall I ever repay her?”

The young French officer looked so unnecessarily tragic that to save the situation his three friends laughed.

“Oh, goodness, you don’t have to repay Eugenia! I am sure she really loved taking care of you,” Barbara interposed. “Besides, I expect she bullied you abominably. She adores bossing people. But there is my Countess, I know she wishes to speak to me first, since I’m sure she likes me best. Au revoir.” And Barbara ran off in the direction of the garden, where the figure of the Countess AmÉlie had just appeared, leaving her three companions to follow.

Nona then walked along by one side of Captain Castaigne’s chair, with Lieutenant Hume on the other, while old FranÇois pushed nobly in the rear.

The French officer made no effort to hide his annoyance at Barbara’s frankness. He was still weak and sometimes a little querulous after his long illness.

“Miss Meade does not understand, she does not appreciate Miss PaybodÉ,” he began. “Even my mother, although she is on her knees to my friend because of her great kindness to me, even she cannot see all that EugeniÉ has been, all that she is——”

This appeared to be a conversation of unfinished sentences, of things better left unsaid, for Captain Castaigne now looked as if he would give a great deal to have kept his last remark to himself.

However, Nona Davis had the exquisite tact of many southern girls and apparently had heard only the first part of her host’s speech.

“Oh, you must not misunderstand Barbara and Eugenia,” she explained. “Most of the time they disagree on every subject. But the truth is they are really tremendously fond of each other. Why, now that Mildred Thornton is in Paris with her brother Dick, I feel quite left out. Barbara used to weep for Eugenia every night after we made our escape with your mother and FranÇois through the passage under the chateau. You see when we learned that she was not with Mildred, but had been left behind, naturally we supposed that something dreadful had happened to her. And of course Barbara understood how self-sacrificing Eugenia always is and feared she had given her life for some one else. If you only knew how happy we all were when we finally learned that you were both alive and that Eugenia was caring for you!”

“But how did you hear?” Lieutenant Hume demanded. The little party had now almost reached the garden where the table was spread for their entertainment, so there was but little time for Nona’s story.

“Oh, we heard through a little French girl, Nicolete. You see, she came to the farmhouse one day to see Eugenia, and after they had talked a while Eugenia discovered that she was a friend of Captain Castaigne’s. Then she told her that he was in hiding. After that Nicolete used to come every day and bring supplies and seemed devoted to Eugenia. Well, you remember Madame told you how FranÇois finally made his way back to this neighborhood to try and find out what had become of Captain Castaigne. You see the Countess was in despair, as naturally we all believed that Captain Castaigne had been killed or taken prisoner, but FranÇois would not give up. He was unkindly treated by the Germans when he first came home, but afterwards they allowed him to work for them. Then of course he saw Nicolete and she told him what had happened. So we actually knew where Eugenia and Captain Castaigne were before we were able to get back here. But you can imagine how anxious we used to feel for fear they would be discovered and something dreadful done to both of them!”

“It is a perfectly ripping story,” Lieutenant Hume answered convincingly. But he added nothing more, as Madame Castaigne at this moment came forward to greet Nona. Actually the old French lady put both her hands on Nona’s cheeks and kissed her daintily on the lips. For the two young American girls had become her devoted friends and admirers during the weeks they spent together after their escape from the chateau.

An hour later they were still sitting talking cheerfully together in the old French garden. Only their host had disappeared. Captain Castaigne had asked to be excused, and as he was still an invalid no one thought seriously of his departure. Presumably he had retired to his own apartments to rest. But the young French officer had not felt like going indoors, although he was not in the mood for further conversation. As it was still early in the afternoon he had asked FranÇois to wheel his chair down into the woods which lay between the chateau and the little “Farmhouse with the Blue Front Door.”