“He says the French are going to fight the English and drive them out of the country, and my father is sure to be killed.”
“Pierre is a bad, cruel boy to speak to you like that. He deserves the stick.”
“Then there is not going to be any fighting, Dr Martin?”
The old man shook his head.
“I am afraid,” he said, sadly. “Perhaps you ought to know, my child. The English troops are advancing against the city yonder, and I am very anxious. I am hoping every day to obtain some news from your father—a letter or a message, to tell me what to do. It is unfortunate that we should be staying here among my people and war to begin.”
“Then there is going to be fighting?” cried the boy.
“I fear so, my boy.”
“Then I know.”
“You know what, Phil?”
