[6] Cabaret.

The church is a pretty, old gray building—­standing very high, with the little graveyard on one side, and a grass terrace in front, from which one has the most lovely view down the valley, and over the green slopes to the woods—­Borny and Villers-Cotterets on one side, Chezy the other.  It is very worn and dilapidated inside, and is never open except on the day of St. Quentin,[7] when the cure of La Ferte-Milon comes over and has a service.  The school-house is a nice modern little house, built by W. some years ago.  It looks as if it had dropped down by mistake into this very old world little hamlet.

  [7] In August, I think.

It is a short walk, little more than two kilometres from the gates of the big park, and the day was enchanting—­cold and bright; too bright, indeed, for the low, gray clouds of the last days had been promising snow and I wanted it so much for my tree!  We were quite a party—­Henrietta, Anne, Pauline, Alice and Francis, Bonny the fox-terrier, and a very large and heavy four-wheeled cart, which the children insisted upon taking and which naturally had to be drawn up all the hills by the grown-ups, as it was much too heavy for the little ones.  Bonny enjoyed himself madly, making frantic excursions to the woods in search of rabbits, absolutely unheeding call or whistle, and finally emerging dirty and scratched, stopping at all the rabbit holes he met on the way back, and burrowing deep into them until nothing was left but a stumpy little white tail wagging furiously.

We went first to the Mayor, as we were obliged to ask his permission to give our party at the school.  Nothing in France can be done without official sanction.  I wanted, too, to speak to him about a church service, which I was very anxious to have before the Tree was lighted.  I didn’t want the children’s only idea of Christmas to be cakes and toys; and that was rather difficult to arrange, as the situation is so strained between the clergy and the laiques, particularly the cure and the school-master.  I knew I should have no trouble with the school-mistress (the school is so small it is mixed girls and boys from four to twelve—­and there is a woman teacher; she is the wife of one of our keepers, and a nice woman)—­but I didn’t know how the Mayor would feel on the subject.  However, he was most amiable; would do anything I wanted.  I said I held very much to having the church open and that I would like as many people to come as it would hold.  Would he tell all the people in the neighbourhood?  I would write to the principal farmers, and I was sure we could make a most interesting fete.  He was rather flattered at being consulted; said he would come up with us and open the church.  It was absolutely neglected and there was nothing in the way of benches, carpets, etc.  I told him I must go first to the school, but I would meet him at the church in half an hour.