said some of the women and children were doing. Tante had read them
parts of a letter telling of the wounding of her sister's husband at
the battle front and of his death in an English 'hospital, but that had
seemed so very far away that Keineth had not thought much about it. Now
it seemed nearer as she pictured the six little nephews and nieces, the
poor old grandmother--perhaps all hungry and homeless! Keineth suddenly
thought how good it was of Tante to leave their comfortable home and
their jolly dinners and Dora's steaming pancakes to go back to Belgium
to help!

Then--as if the whole day was not queer and different enough, Keineth
suddenly heard her father's quick step on the stairway. He had said he
would not be home until that night! She sprang to the door in time to
rush into his arms as he came down the hallway. He kissed her, on her
nose and eyes, as was his way, but when he lifted his face Keineth saw
that it was very serious, which was not at all like Daddy.

"Run out in the park for a little while, dear. I must talk to Madame
Henri!"

The sun was shining very brightly on the pavements of the streets. The
little leaves on the trees were quivering with new life and the birds
were chirping loudly and busily in the branches, fussing over their
housekeeping. But Keineth's heart was too heavy to respond! She walked
around and around the square, staring miserably at the people who
passed her and always keeping in sight of the long windows where the
pink geraniums shone in the spring sunlight.

Suddenly her heart dropped to her very toes and she had a great deal of
trouble keeping the tears back from her eyes, for a very bright yellow