“Quack, quack, quack!” came the reply, and when I reached the entrance hall, I found them all clustered together at the foot of the staircase, their beads cocked on one side, awaiting a decision of their drake before undertaking to mount the marble stairway.

That same afternoon the cour d’infirmieres transported itself to the lawn in front of the chateau.  It was too splendid weather to stay indoors.  The demonstrations were finished and most of the women had retired, when one of those who remained lifted her finger and asked for silence.  “Listen,” she said, “the cannon!” She didn’t need to go any further.  In less than a second’s time we were straining our ears towards the east!

“There!” she said, “there it goes again!”

Three of us had heard a sound which strangely resembled the popping of a cork at a very great distance.  Remembering my grandmother’s Indian stories, I stretched out on the grass with my ear to the ground.  This time I heard the rolling so distinctly that my face must have altered, for two of the woman shuddered and took hasty leave.

In a second I guessed that they were off to tell the news—­so I made light of it by declaring that it must be the trying-out of some heavy artillery at Chalons; but when Madame Guix and I found ourselves alone, we looked at each other with interrogation points in our eyes.

We thought of our hospital, of our supplies, of our perfect uselessness unless Soissons could yet reach us—­and I resolved to go down to the druggist at Charly and see what could be done.  The following morning, Saturday, the twenty-ninth—­I betook myself to Charly and there managed to beg the elements of a rudimentary infirmary from the old pharmacist, who must have thought me crazy.  Absorbent cotton I was able to procure in small rolled packages from the draper, and promising to send the boys down in the afternoon with a small band cart, I returned home, without having observed anything abnormal save the frequent passage of autos towards Paris—­all going top speed and loaded with the queerest occupants and baggage.

On my return great excitement reigned around our gate, for a private automobile containing wounded had halted on seeing our Red Cross flag, and Madame Guix welcomed them in.

They were petit blesses, all able to travel, probably suffering more from heat and privation than from their wounds.  They had no orders to stop, but hoped we would let them rest a bit before going further—­and could we give them something to eat?

All this was very fortunate considering our precarious situation and we gladly did the best we knew how.  There were six poor chaps belonging to different regiments, but all so tired that it seemed cruel to prevent their snatching a rest by plying them with questions.  We could do that later on.