It was after nine o’clock when at last Mother Meraut took the basket on her arm and gave Pierrette her knitting to carry, and the three started down the steps.

“Everything looks just the same as it did yesterday,” said Pierrette as they walked down the street.  “There’s that little raveled-out dog that always barks at Pierre, and there’s Madame Coudert’s cat asleep on the railing, just as she always is.”

“Yes,” said Mother Meraut, with a sigh, “the cats and dogs are the same, it is only the people who are different!”

They entered the shop and exchanged greetings with Madame Coudert.  They had bought a long loaf of bread, and Mother Mcraut was just opening her purse to pay for it, when suddenly a shot rang out.  It was followed by the rattle of falling tiles.  Another and another came, and soon there was a perfect rain of shot and shell.

“It is the Germans knocking at the door of Rheims before they enter,” remarked Madame Coudert with grim humor.  “I did not expect so much politeness!”

Mother Meraut did not reply.  For once her cheerful tongue found nothing comforting to say.  Pierre clung to her arm, and Pierrette put her fingers in her ears and hid her face against her Mother’s breast.

For some time the deafening sounds continued.  From the window they could see people running for shelter in every direction.  A man came dashing down the street; dodging falling tiles as he ran, and burst into Madame Coudert’s shop.  He had just come from the Rue Colbert and had news to tell.  “The Boches have sent an emissary to the Mayor to demand huge supplies of provisions from the City, and a great sum of money besides,” he told them, as he gasped for breath.  “They are shelling the champagne cellars and the public buildings of the City to scare us into giving them what they demand.  The German Army will soon be here.”

In a few moments there was a lull in the roar of the guns, and then in the distance another sound was heard.  It was a mighty song of triumph as the conquerors came marching into Rheims!

“There won’t be any more shooting for a while anyway,” said the stranger, who had now recovered his breath.  “They won’t shell the City while it’s full of their own men.  I’m going to see them come in.”

All Pierre’s fears vanished in an instant.  “Come on,” he cried, wild with excitement; “let us go too.”

“I’ll not stir a foot from my shop,” said Madame Coudert firmly.  “I don’t want to see the Germans, and if they want to see me, they can come where I am.”

But Pierre had not waited for a reply, from her or any one else.  He was already running up the street.

“Catch him, catch him,” gasped Mother Meraut.

Pierrette dashed after Pierre, and as she could run like the wind, she soon caught up with him and seized him by the skirt of his blouse.  “Stop! stop!” she screamed.  “Mother doesn’t want you to go.”