until midnight," the captain was explaining as his wife and H. appeared,
and almost without time for greeting. "Make haste," he continued,
turning to Madame Gauthier. "We must be off in a quarter of an hour, or
our machine will never reach town on time."

I hurried with Elizabeth to her apartment, where we woke and dressed two
very astonished children, while the little maid literally threw the
toilet necessities and a few clothes into a huge Gladstone bag.

"Leon evidently doesn't think us safe down here! You'd better come,
too," murmured Elizabeth as we went downstairs.

In the meantime, H. had questioned our friend as to what had transpired
in Paris within the last twenty-four hours.

"England will probably join us--and there is every possibility of
Italy's remaining neutral," he announced, as we made our appearance. And
then--"You must come to Paris. You're too near the front here," he
continued, as he piled wife, babies and servant into the taxi.

And so, with hardly time for an adieu, the motor whisked away as it had
come, leaving H. and me looking beyond it into the night.

When I returned to the pantry, I found Nini weeping copiously. Imagining
she had become frightened by the sudden departure of our friends, I was
collecting my wits to console and reassure her, when she burst forth,
"Oh, Madame--Madame--the _pates--_"

"Well?"