“Have you got an extra one?”

“No, but I’ve my emergency wheel—­”

“Never mind.  Another inner tube may come in handy.”

“Very well, Madame.”

Madame Maeberez was waiting, so I jumped in next her and we drove to the town ball.  Though the war was scarcely a week old her office was already installed in the Hotel de Ville, and several hospitals were well on the way towards complete organization.  In a big room white-capped women (the first I had seen of the kind) were counting bandages, linen and underclothing, laying out huge piles for such and such a hospital.

While Madame M. was answering numerous questions which besieged her on her entrance, her secretary took note of what was lacking in my ambulance, promised to forward it at once by motor, and gave me an agreement to sign.

In the meantime, someone had carried my card to the mayor who affixed his seal, and my armlet appeared as though by magic.

Now, then, for the colonel!  And we hastened away again at a moment’s notice.

As we drove through the quaint little city, my eye was attracted more than once by a splendid bit of Louis XIV architecture.  The college, the convent, the churches and even some private residences were wonderful examples of that exquisitely decorative period.  As it was my first visit to Soissons I regretted not having brought my kodak, but when I spoke of this to Madame Macherez she expressed her delight at my admiration of her native city, but was extremely glad that I had not ventured out alone with a camera.  Unknown persons with photographic paraphernalia were suspicious these times.  It was best to leave such things at home.

Just then we were winding up a narrow street and the chauffeur was tooting in vain, trying to persuade a half-dozen soldiers carrying bales of bay on their backs, to make room for us to get by.  With much evident reluctance the first man drew a bit to the right, the second vociferated something in a picturesque patois, and just as we passed the third, I leaned forward and grabbed the driver by the collar.

“Stop, stop a minute!” I gasped.

He must have thought I was mad, and Madame M. probably imagined I had suddenly lost my wits, when she saw me plunge out of the motor, race towards one of the bales, tear it from the carrier’s back with a violence that nearly upset the man, and then, throwing my arms about his neck, embrace him.

“You?  Already?” gasped H., and then as we realized that we were making a public spectacle of ourselves, the color rose to our cheeks.

A hasty explanation followed, in which I told my plans.

“And you, what on earth are you doing here?” I questioned.

“Well—­just what you see.  All of us from Villiers have been sent to bring horses to the front, and a fine job it is.  I wish you could see the nags!  None of them rideable!”

“But after they’re delivered—­what?”