She put on her little black apron and went out into the brisk country air.
The farm animals greeted her, and the little stream gurgled good morning. This was the most beautiful feeling that life had ever given Jeanne.
She skipped about the farm, seeing and feeling and smelling the country, freshness, and morning. It was beautiful.
And then she thought of Auntie Sue. Ah, poor Auntie Sue! If only she could be here with Jeanne! If only they could forget that shop and come to a place like this! Why hadn't Auntie Sue ever told her about places like this?
As Jeanne's thoughts flew, her little feet flew, too. Soon she found herself walking along the country road. New wonders met her eyes and ears and nose with every step. Her sadness was nearly forgotten, until she stopped.
There, in front of Jeanne, were countless crosses—crossed of white, crosses of brown, all in rows.
Margot had told her about the soldiers' burying grounds in the Argonne and in other places of France. This was a soldiers' burying ground.
The little girl stood and wondered.
She wondered about her own soldier father.