“'"What is it—little one!” the mother answered.
“'"Dinner's ready.”
“Talk about silver bells! Say, mister, never again! Honest, I never heard a sound like the voice of that kid. It kind o' floored me—sure thing! Up there at the front we just hear the growling of cannon and the whinnying of horses and the swearing of men day and night. Maybe that's why the kid's voice took hold of us that way. I don't know. After I had heard it I felt as if I could walk to Kansas City. Honest Injun!
“'We peeked through the bushes and saw that the little girl had dragged a board between her and her mother and covered it with broken dishes. Then she began to chitter-chatter.
“'Here's some lovely soup and there's a fine goose and a great bowl full of the best jelly that ever was and potatoes and celery and spinach and everything that you like, mother. It's a Christmas dinner you know. Papa will sit here and Henri will sit there and we are going to have the grandest time.”
“'So the little chatter-box went on—good deal like a fine lady—and her mother said:
“'"Papa! Henri! They are not here! They will eat no more with? us.”
“'"Why?”
“'“Mort pour la patrie—both of them! my child!”
“'"No, mother, they are here. I can see them just as plain! Come, mother, they are waiting!”