"I'd like to write it down," said June, "so I can hang it on the tree."
"To be sure, to be sure," said Monsieur, "you will find pen and ink in the table drawer. Not that!" he cried sharply as June took out a long sealed envelope. "Give that to me!"
June handed the packet to Monsieur in some wonder and then continued his search.
"Here's a corkscrew," he said, "and some neckties, and a pipe. Here's the pen! And may I use this fat tablet?"
When the materials were collected, June stretched himself at full length on the floor and began the difficult task.
"I never did write with a pen and ink afore," he confided to Monsieur, "you will have to tell me how to spell the big words."
The room grew very silent and nothing was heard but the scratch, scratch of June's clumsy pen, and the occasional question which he asked. A strange change had come over Monsieur; his face, which had been so kind and friendly, grew hard and scheming. He had drawn himself painfully up on his elbow and was intently watching June's small fingers as they formed the letters. Presently he drew the long envelope from under his pillow and held it in his hand. It was a very fat envelope with a long row of stamps in one corner, but there was no address on it. Twice he put it back and shook his head, and twice he looked longingly at the map of France, and at the flag over the window, then he took it out again.
"Will you write something for me now, at once?" he demanded in such a hard, quick voice that June looked up in surprise.
"Another poem?" asked June.
"No, a name and address on this envelope. Begin here and make the letters that I tell you. Capital M."