"And what is her name?" asks the commandant, patting the little
girl.

_"Sooss,"_ answers the boy. "Mama say _'ickle angel.'_
Hendrik say _Sooss."_

All effort to get any more information from the children was fruitless.
They were too small to remember much, and what they did remember
was of their own size--only very little things, of no importance
except to themselves. The commandant looks at the nurse quizzically.

"Now, miss, you have unloaded these vague babies on me. What do
you propose that I should do with them? Adopt them?"

"Not yet, anyhow," she answers, smiling broadly. "Let us take them
up to the camp. I'll bet we can find some one there to look after
them. What do you say, sir?"

"Well, well," he sighs, "have your own way as usual! Just ring that
bell for the automobile, _als't-Ublieft."_

In the busy sewing-room the two children are standing up on one
of the tables. The commandant has an arm around each of them, for
they are a little frightened by so much noise and so many eyes
looking at them. The chatter dies down, as he speaks in his gruff
authoritative voice, but with a twinkle in his eyes, rather like
a middle-aged Santa Claus.

"Look here! I've got two fine babies."