The church has
been repaired (that was done first, "because it is God's house") with
warm-coloured pink walls and neat decoration; and plans for the
restoring of the whole village are being carried out, while the waiting
inhabitants camp in a village of toy-like bungalows given by the French
Government. I never saw such looks of worshipping love cast upon human
beings as those of the people of Vitrimont for these two American girls.
I'm sure they believe that Miss Crocker and Miss Polk are saints
incarnated for their sakes by "_la Sainte Vierge_." One old man said as
much!
He was so old that it seemed as if he could never have been young, yet
he was whistling a toothless but patriotic whistle, over some bit of
amateur-carpenter work, in front of a one-room bungalow. Inside, visible
through the open door, was the paralyzed wife he had lately wheeled
"home" to Vitrimont, in some kind of a cart. "Oh, yes, we are happy!" he
stopped whistling to say. "We are fortunate, too. We think we have found
the place where our _street_ used to be, and these Angels--we do not
call them Demoiselles, but Angels--from America are going to build us a
new home in it. We have seen the plan. It is more beautiful than the
old!"
Wherever we passed a house on the road to Luneville, and in town itself,
as we came in, we saw notices--printed and written--to remind us that we
were in the war-zone, if we forgot for an instant. "_Logement
militaire_," or "_Cave voutee, 200 places--400 places_.
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