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Updated: June 10, 2025
She could not repress an exultant note in her voice. Doggie, too, accounted for something; for much. "They came to bring good news, ma tante. The English have found all the money and the jewels and the share certificates that Père Grigou hid in the well of La Folette." "Mon Dieu! It is true?" "Oui, ma tante." "And they have restored them to you?" "Yes." "It is extraordinary.
What does your Majesty desire? Ah, your most devoted servant! Coffee, if I might ask it, excellent Madame Folette!" "After breakfast," said the mother, "I have something for you to guess." "Something to guess?" said Henrik, "what can it be? Tell me, what is it like, sweet mamma? what name does it bear?" "A wedding," replied she. "A wedding? A most interesting novelty!
He was having some difficulty with a recalcitrant bit of wire that refused to come straight and jabbed him diabolically in unexpected places, when a shot rang out and German flares went up and everybody lay flat on the ground, while bullets spat about them. As he lay on his stomach, a flare lit up the ruined well of the farm of La Folette.
In his pedantic way he began to tell her the story of Jeanne, so far as he knew it. He told her of the girl standing in the night wind and rain on the bluff by the turning of the road. He told her of Doggie's insane adventure across No Man's Land to the farm of La Folette. Tears rolled down Peggy's cheeks. She cried, incredulous: "Doggie did that? Doggie?"
"My God!" said Doggie again. "It was terrible," she said. "But they were in their right." "And then?" "We lay hidden until it was dark how they did not find us I don't know and then we escaped across country. I thought of coming here to my Aunt Morin, which is not far from La Folette, but I reflected that soon the Boches would be here also. And we went on.
Can she have the honour of giving you a cup of coffee? There is your old cup with the stars; it was saved with Madame Folette from the fire, and the little one here with the rose-buds is allotted to our little Elise. You must really taste these rusks they never were in the Ark they came with the blushing morning out of the oven.
How did he reach the well of La Folette? I don't comprehend at all." Smithers turned to Willoughby. "Yes. How the dickens did he know the exact spot to go for?" "We had taken over a new sector, and I was getting the topography right with a map. Trevor was near by doing nothing, and as he's a man of education, I asked him to help me.
Aunt Morin had still a son, who was already very old. He must be forty-six. He had expatriated himself many years ago and was in Madagascar. The son who was killed was her Benjamin, the child of her old age. But all her little fortune would go to the colonial Gaspard, whom Jeanne had never seen. But the Farm of La Folette?
"It is a fancy of the children," returned she. "An honest old woman of this name, whom I once treated to a cup of coffee, exclaimed, at the first sight of her favourite beverage, 'When I see a coffee-pot, it is all the same to me as if I saw an angel from heaven! The children heard this, and insisted upon it that there was a great resemblance in figure between Madame Folette and this coffee-pot; and so ever since it has borne her name.
"You have paid me a great compliment, Mademoiselle Jeanne." Then, after awhile, he asked, "From the market-square of the little town you found means to come here?" "Alas, no!" she said, putting her work in her lap again. "I made my way, with my handcart it was easy to our original destination, a little farm belonging to the eldest brother of my father. The Farm of La Folette.
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