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Updated: June 28, 2025
Patsy was quite disappointed in Maurie. He had so many admirable qualities that it was a shame he could be so untruthful and unreliable. As time passed on the monotony that followed their first exciting experiences grew upon them and became oppressive. December weather in Flanders brought cutting winds from off the North Sea and often there were flurries of snow in the air.
"I think, Patsy dear, it will be best to leave this Belgian girl in ignorance of her husband's fate." "I, myself, have a wife," quoth little Maurie, with smug assurance, "but she is not worrying about me, wherever she may be; nor do I feel especial anxiety for Clarette. A woman takes what comes especially if she is obliged to." Patsy regarded him indignantly.
"Maurie," she repeated, "you are crying." He admitted it sadly; they had found him out. Now they would think he was a baby. That was the inevitable accusation in the mind of these people who were grown up in the mind of every one, except his mother. "But I'm not a baby!" he exclaimed. Sally knelt down by the side of his bed. "Who said you were a baby?" she whispered. "You were just going to."
"Yes; I guessed it, but " She did not know how much to say, how much to leave unsaid. "Well, that is it," Sally replied, evasively. "My mother read about your case in the paper this morning." "And she packed him off, like this, the same day?" "Yes; my mother is a Christian. She sees things in that light." "Did she send you with Maurie, then?" "No; she forbade me to go.
Patsy realized the folly of arguing with him. "Maurie," said she, "or whatever your name may be, you have been faithful in your duty to us and we have no cause for complaint. But I believe you do not speak the truth, and that you are shifty and artful. I fear you will come to a bad end." "Sometimes, mamselle," he replied, "I fear so myself. But, peste! why should we care?
Clarette turned to drive the children away and in the act allowed Patsy and Ajo to glance past her into the hut. There stood little Maurie, sleeves rolled above his elbows, bending over a battered dishpan where he was washing a mess of cracked and broken pottery. He met their gaze with a despairing countenance and a gesture of appeal that scattered a spray of suds from big wet fingers.
"There is plenty of charity for the Belgians these days. One has but to ask, and someone gives." "Then you will not let us have Maurie?" "No, mademoiselle." Then she unbent a little and added: "If my husband goes to you, they will be sure to catch him some day, and when they catch him they will shoot him." "Why?" "Don't you know?" "No." Clarette smiled grimly.
"No, I don't forget that," said Sally, quietly. "But why do you think so much of yourself? Why can't you think a little of that poor woman up in London, trying to shield Maurie from all the horror of this divorce case which now so easily may come to his ears? Why can't you let her leave him here in peace?
Jones and Maurie started away with the stretcher, Uncle John guiding them to the dunes where Maud was waiting, and presently they had the wounded German comfortably laid in the last bed. "Now, then, back to the ship," said Gys. "We have in our care two lives, at least, that can only be saved by prompt operations." Maurie got into the driver's seat. "Careful, now!" cautioned Jones, beside him.
Gys sometimes accompanied them and sometimes went to the front with the ambulance; but he never caused his friends anxiety on these trips, because he could not endanger his life, owing to the cessation of fighting. The only incident that enlivened this period of stagnation was the capture of Maurie. No; the authorities didn't get him, but Clarette did.
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