"You're a true daughter of France, Mother," said Frank, admiringly.
"Ah, la belle France," sighed his mother. "I love her with all my heart and soul. How many times I have longed to go back and see her sunny vineyards and her beautiful cities."
"You and father were planning to go over there just before the war broke out, weren't you, Mother?" asked Frank.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Sheldon. "And for two reasons. I was wild to see the dear homeland again, and then, too, I felt I ought to go to see about the property my father, your grandfather, left me. But then your dear father died, and after that I had no heart to go. Nor could I have gone anyway, had I wished, for the war would have made it almost impossible."
"Well, we don't care much for the property, Mother," said Frank. "While I've got two strong arms I'll support you. And yet," he added, a little more thoughtfully, "it wouldn't have been a bad thing if we had been able to sell it so that you could have the money now when I am liable to be called away. We've got only this house and the little money that dad left us, and I'm afraid you will have all you can do to get along."
"Don't worry about me," replied the mother in a tone that strove to be cheerful. "You know I have the true French thrift—you've said yourself that I am a wonderful manager—I can make a little money go a long way. The only reason I ever cared for the property was for your sake, so that you could get a good start in the world. I don't know now that we can ever get it. It was tangled up in a lawsuit and that was one of the reasons why I ought to have been there in person when the estate was being settled."
"Never mind, little Mother," cried Frank gaily, "I'm the richest fellow in the world this minute with such a mother as you are."
He gave her a quick embrace and kiss and hurried out of the house, for he had been away from the office considerably longer than usual. But quick as was the time he made in getting downtown, the news of his exploit had preceded him and he found the place buzzing with excitement.
Bart, who had let the story lose nothing in the telling, gave him a resounding thump on the back as he came in.
"Here's the fellow that made the Hun eat crow," he cried, jubilantly.