CHAPTER I

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS


[Illustration: The Summons]

No project could have been less foreseen than was ours of wintering in
France, though it must be confessed that for several months our thoughts
had constantly strayed across the Channel. For the Boy was at school at
Versailles, banished there by our desire to fulfil a parental duty.

The time of separation had dragged tardily past, until one foggy
December morning we awoke to the glad consciousness that that very
evening the Boy would be with us again. Across the breakfast-table we
kept saying to each other, "It seems scarcely possible that the Boy is
really coming home to-night," but all the while we hugged the assurance
that it was.

The Boy is an ordinary snub-nosed, shock-headed urchin of thirteen, with
no special claim to distinction save the negative one of being an only
child. Yet without his cheerful presence our home seemed empty and dull.
Any attempts at merry-making failed to restore its life. Now all was
agog for his return. The house was in its most festive trim. Christmas
presents were hidden securely away. There was rejoicing downstairs as
well as up: the larder shelves were stored with seasonable fare, and
every bit of copper and brass sparkled a welcome. Even the kitchen cat
sported a ribbon, and had a specially energetic purr ready.

Into the midst of our happy preparations the bad news fell with