Little Jeanne of France

CHAPTER XVII

A CALL FOR HELP

Major d'Artrot called to his wife, "Come; see! A letter has arrived which calls me to Paris. I must leave at once."

Madame d'Artrot read the letter.

"Dear, dear Major d'Artrot," it said, "You are my only friend, and I must ask you to come to my aid. I am in trouble. I need help and I am ill. Please come to me.

"Why, that is Auntie Sue," said Madame d'Artrot, a surprised note in her voice. "She has such a successful shop, I am told. What can be the matter?"

"That is what I shall find out soon," answered the Major. And he made hasty preparations to leave for Paris.

When Major d'Artrot returned to his farm two days later, he brought with him a little girl.

Jeanne was a very white-faced little girl.

Major d'Artrot said, "I have brought little Jeanne to be our guest until her aunt is better."

And all the little d'Artrots flocked about Jeanne and tried to make her feel at home.

It was all so strange to little Jeanne from the city. She had been taken away from Auntie – Auntie, who lay ill and needed her.

But the Major told her to come. He told her that Auntie wished her to come with him. If Auntie wished it, Jeanne must go. But otherwise she would never – could never – have left poor sick Auntie Sue.

Once outside in the fresh, pure country air, Jeanne began to forget a little. With rabbits and dogs and cats about her and the merry chattering of the Major's children, she could not help it.

Jeanne's eyes were alive, and her heart was gay. She was one of the little fairies of play, and that kind of fairy cannot remain sad for long.

Besides, the Major's children had games and playthings of which Jeanne had never before heard. Even Pierrot was excited. It was all Jeanne could do to hold him from jumping into the little stream.

Jeanne soon had the young d'Artrots acquainted with Pierrot. Indeed, the young d'Artrots fell quite in love with sprightly Pierrot.

In the meantime the Major recounted to his wife the happenings which had befallen him in Paris.

"Poor woman!" he told Madame d'Artrot, as he described Suzanne's plight. "She is ill because of the wrong she committed so many years ago. She could tell nobody about it.

"But she finally discovered that Jeanne was unhappy, and that was too much for her to bear. She realized then that she was being punished for her wrong. And so she decided that before it was too late she would confess!"

"So she told you this terrible story?" asked Madame d'Artrot.

"Yes, and asked me to see Madame Villard," replied the Major.

"And when will you break this news to Madame?" the Major's wife inquired.

"I have already done so," he answered quietly. "That is, I called upon Madame Villard before leaving Paris. I told her that I had traced her lost grandchild. I told her that I wished her to come to our home to-morrow. But I did not tell her any more."

"Ah, poor Madame Villard! How happy I am for her! What a joy this will be for her!" sighed Madame d'Artrot.

The Major smiled and agreed with his wife.

"And what a joy for this poor little play-starved child!" he said, looking out of the window at the happy band of children.

They were romping and making the air ring with glad sounds.

The next morning Jeanne arose early. Being on a farm was something so different and thrilling to this child of the city that every noise outside her window seemed to call her.

She put on her little black apron and went out into the brisk country air.

The farm animals greeted her, and the little stream gurgled good morning. This was the most beautiful feeling that life had ever given Jeanne.

She skipped about the farm, seeing and feeling and smelling the country, freshness, and morning. It was beautiful.

And then she thought of Auntie Sue. Ah, poor Auntie Sue! If only she could be here with Jeanne! If only they could forget that shop and come to a place like this! Why hadn't Auntie Sue ever told her about places like this?

As Jeanne's thoughts flew, her little feet flew, too. Soon she found herself walking along the country road. New wonders met her eyes and ears and nose with every step. Her sadness was nearly forgotten, until she stopped.

There, in front of Jeanne, were countless crosses – crossed of white, crosses of brown, all in rows.

Margot had told her about the soldiers' burying grounds in the Argonne and in other places of France. This was a soldiers' burying ground.

The little girl stood and wondered.

She wondered about her own soldier father.

Just then, a big motor car stopped not far away, and Jeanne watched a black-gowned lady and child step out. They carried flowers in their arms. They went to a little brown cross and they knelt.

The tears welled up in Jeanne's eyes. Ah, how she, too needed to pray! How she needed a little brown cross to kneel to – to talk to!

Everything was making Jeanne cry. She was wondering again about Auntie Sue. How strangely Auntie had acted! And she had sent Jeanne away!

CHAPTER XVIII

MARGOT'S STORY

"Come. Tell me. Quick!" Madame Villard breezed into the Major's house with Margot following. They were both breathless, excited. "What have you found out, dear Major? Tell me."

Major d'Artrot bade the eager grandmother be seated and rest herself. Then he asked one of his own little girls to take Margot outside.

"We can't find the little girl," said the Major's eldest to Margot, when they were outside in the garden. "When we came out this morning she was gone."

"What little girl?" asked Margot.

"Why, Jeanne," said the Major's daughter. "That little girl from the city. Papa brought her here last night."

When Margot learned that it was Jeanne – Auntie Sue's Jeanne, "the little model" – she rushed into the house.

"Oh, Grandmother, Jeanne was here. But now she is gone," she cried.

The Major looked astonished.

Grandmother had been crying.

"What is that you say, my dear?" asked the Major. "She is gone?"

"Yes. The children cannot find her."

Then the Major left Grandmother and Margot alone, while he went out to search for Jeanne.

And Grandmother held Margot very close, while she repeated the tale that the Major had just told her.

"And so, my dear little Margot," she added, "Jeanne is your own cousin."

Margot could not speak. Her heart was too full. She only hugged Grandmother like a little bear. Then, more like a swift jack rabbit, she flew out of the house. She flew out in search of Jeanne, her own cousin.

All the d'Artrots were looking for Jeanne, but Margot came upon her first.

Jeanne was kneeling beside a crooked little brown cross. There were flowers on it.

Jeanne had made the crooked little brown cross herself, and she was praying. She had made it for her soldier daddy.

Margot came up behind Jeanne.

"What are you doing, Jeanne?" she asked.

Jeanne thought she had never before seen Margot's face this way. It seemed that Margot was about to cry, but not the usual Margot cry.

She was not acting spoiled. She was not commanding anything. She seemed so sweet and kind and sympathetic.

"I – I was praying," said Jeanne. "But what are you doing here, Margot?"

Margot sat down beside the little, black-aproned figure and took Jeanne's hand.

"I came to play with you, Jeanne," she said. "I came to tell you about a new play."

Jeanne could not understand it at all.

With head bent, she whispered, "But Margot dear, I have not brought Pierrot. We cannot play without Pierrot."

Margot answered, "We do not need Pierrot for this play. You see there is only one heroine, and that is you."

Then Margot told a story to Jeanne – a curious story of a little baby who was kept away from her grandmother and her cousin. Yes; the baby was really kept for a number of years from a home of love and protection and made to work. She had very little time to play. She did not even know her real name. How could she? It had never been told to her.

She told Jeanne of another little girl who lived in that home and had everything. The other little girl could have played always but didn't know how. She didn't know how to play until the first little girl came and showed her how.

Then Margot told about a kind man who received a letter from a sick lady telling what a terrible deed she had done.

The lady begged the kind man to take the little girl to his home in the country and then to send for her grandmother and little cousin.

So he did. And when the grandmother and little cousin arrived, they found that the child was Jeanne!

Jeanne started, and her eyes grew big and round.

Margot put her arm about Jeanne's shoulders. Just then they heard a step.

There was Grandmother Villard standing among a group of young d'Artrots. Grandmother left the group and came over to the two little girls.

She took Jeanne in her arms. She cried.

And then she said, "Jeanne, my little one! My own little grandchild!"

The d'Artrots left, and Jeanne and Margot and Grandmother sat together for a long time. They sat silently.

But suddenly Jeanne exclaimed, "Oh, poor Auntie Sue! I must go to her. I must go."

Grandmother held her back.

"No," she said. "Auntie Sue is all right, Jeanne. She only wants you to be happy."

"Ah, but how can poor Auntie Sue sell the dresses now, when I am not there to show them for her?" asked Jeanne.

"She will not have to sell dresses any more," said Grandmother. "Grandmother will ask Auntie Sue to live with us always, Jeanne, if – "

"If what, Grandmother?"

"If you want her to," continued Madame Villard.

"Oh, poor dear Auntie Sue!" cried Jeanne. "She has been kind and good to me. She could not help doing what she did. I love Auntie Sue, and I want her to live with us always and always!"

"You are a good little girl, Jeanne. Your father would have been proud of you," said Grandmother softly.

Then Grandmother continued, and her voice was husky, "You have been as brave a soldier as he, Jeanne."

Grandmother arose. The two little girls followed her to the white dotted graveyard. They knelt before one of the white slabs. Jeanne saw her own father's name in letters before her. She tried to pray and to keep her eyes on those words, "Paul Villard." But the letters ran together.

A little breeze seemed to be whispering over and over to her, "Jeanne Villard, Jeanne Villard – that is your name."

Grandmother and Margot at last arose. Margot put her arm lovingly about Jeanne's shoulder.

"Come, Jeanne, little cousin," she said. "Let us go home now and play."

PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY