"The Germans pretend to believe they are
barracks still, full of soldiers, as an excuse for bombs," she said.
"But you shall see! And if you wish--if you have time--we will take you
to see also what the Boches have done to some of our other towns--ah,
but beautiful towns, of an importance! Luneville, and Gerbevillers, and
more--many more. You should know what they are like before you go on to
the Grande Couronne, where Nancy was saved in 1914."
Of course the Becketts "wished." Of course they had time. "Molly, tell
Mr. and Mrs. Prefet we've got more time than anything else!" said the
old man eagerly. "Oh, and I guess we've got a little money, too, enough
to spread around among those other places, as well as here. This is
going to be something like what Jim would want at last!"
When the Prefet and his wife rose to go, they invited not only the
Becketts but Brian and me to dine at their house that night. Mother
Beckett, on the point of accepting for us all, hesitated. The hesitation
had to be explained: and the explanation was--the O'Farrells. I had
hoped we might be spared them, but it was not to be. Our host and
hostess, hearing of the travellers of the Red Cross, insisted that they
must come, too. Mrs. Beckett was sure they would both be charmed, but as
it turned out, she was only half right. Mr. O'Farrell was charmed. His
sister had a headache, and intended to spend the evening in her room.
Padre, if I wrote stories, I should like to write one with that prefet
and his whole family for the heroes and heroines of it!
There is a small son.
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