"She's home, very ill."
"Oh, really. I'm so sorry, what's the trouble—nothing serious, I hope?"
"I think it must be—you see she has had her three brothers killed and now grandpa has enlisted."
"Dear me, how terrible! And your papa?"
"Oh, he's in town working for the government. One of his brothers was killed and the other is blind. Poor old grandma died of the shock."
Moved by the lamentable plight of so young a mother, the good ladies sought to penetrate her seclusion, offer their condolences, and help lift the cloud of gloom.
Imagine then their surprise at being received by my smiling, blond-haired friend, who failed to comprehend their mournful but astonished looks.
At length Annette's story was brought to light, and Jeanne could but thank them for their trouble, at the same time explaining that neither she nor her husband had ever had brothers, and that their parents had been dead these many years.
"You naughty, wicked girl!" scolded Jeanne, as her tearful progeny was led forward. "You wicked, wicked girl—what made you tell such lies?"
The culprit twisted her hands; her whole body fairly convulsed with restrained sobs.