muttered.

Lisa scowled darkly at him, but she glanced at the baby
and her mouth closed. Little Jacques should never hear
her rage nor swear.

From an overhanging gable at the street corner looked
down a roughly hewn stone Madonna. The arms of the Holy
Child were outstretched to bless. Lisa paused before it,
crossing herself. A strange joy filled her heart.

"I too am a mother! I too!" she said. She hurried after
George and clung to his arm as they went home.

"Was there any letter?" she asked.

"Only one from Munich--Miss Vance. I haven't opened it."

"I thought your mother would write. She must have heard
about the boy!"

George's face grew dark. "No, she'll not write. Nor
come."

"You wish for her every day, George?" She looked at him
wistfully.

"Yes, I do. She and I were comrades to a queer degree.
I long for something hearty and homelike again. See
here, Lisa. I'm going home before my boy begins to talk.