It was good for a vagrant American to dine at the American Legation,
where Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock were far, very far, from the days in
Toledo, Ohio, where he was mayor. Some said that the place of the
Minister to Belgium was at Havre, where the Belgian Government
had its offices; but neither Whitlock nor the Belgian people thought
so, nor the German Government, since they had realized his prestige
with the Belgians and how they would listen to him in any crisis when
their passions might break the bonds of wisdom. Hugh Gibson, being
the omnipresent Secretary of Legation in four languages, naturally
was also present. We recalled dining together in Honduras, when he
was in the thick of vexations.

Trouble accommodatingly waits for him wherever he goes, because
he has a gift for taking care of trouble, in the ascendancy of a
cheerful spirit and much knowledge of international law. His present
for the Minister, who daily received stacks of letters from all sources
asking the impossible, as well as from Americans who wanted to be
sure that the food they gave was not being purloined by the
Germans, was a rubber stamp, "Blame-it-all-there's-a-state-of-war-in-
Belgium!" which he suggested might save typewriting--a recommendation
which the Minister refused to accept, not to Gibson's surprise.

On that Christmas afternoon and evening, the people promenaded
the streets as usual. You might have thought it a characteristic
Christmas afternoon or evening except for the Landsturm patrols. But
there was an absence of the old gaiety, and they were moving as if
from habit and moving was all there was to do.

They had heard the sound of the guns at Dixmude the night before.