When the Twins reached the Cathedral the morning after the return
of the French troops, they found their Father resting after an
operation which had removed from his leg a piece of shell, which
had nearly cost his life and would make him permanently lame.
Their Mother met them as they came in. She was pale but smiling.
"What a joy to see you!" she cried, as she pressed them to her
breast. "You may take one look at your Father and throw him a
kiss; then you must go back to Madame Coudert."
"Mayn't we stay with you and help take care of Father?" begged
Pierre.
"No," answered his Mother firmly, "the sights here are not for
young eyes. I can wait upon the nurses and keep things clean: My
place is here for the present, but tomorrow, if all goes well, we
will sleep once more in our own little home, if it is still
standing. In the mean time, be good children, and mind Madame
Coudert. Now run along before the shells begin to fall."
The Twins obediently trotted away, and regained the little shop
just as the clock struck ten. The day seemed long to them, for
their thoughts were with their parents, but Madame Coudert was so
cheerful herself; and kept them so busy they had no time to mope.
Pierrette helped make the little cakes, and Pierre scraped the
remains of the icing from the mixing-bowl and ate it lest any be
wasted. In some ways Pierre was a very thrifty boy. Then, too,
Madame Coudert allowed them to stand behind the counter and help
wait upon the customers.
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