Henri counted off on his fingers.
"I thought of water," he said, "and a house, and firewood, and kettles
and furniture. And there I ceased thinking."
It was dusk now. Marie lifted the lid from the stove, and a warm red
glow of reflected light filled the little kitchen. It was warm and
cozy; the kettle sang like the purring of a cat. And something else
that had troubled Sara Lee came out.
"I wonder," she said, "if you are doing all this only because I--well,
because I persuaded you." Which she had not. "Do the men really need
me here?"
"Need you, mademoiselle?"
"Do they need what little I can give? They were smiling, all the ones
I saw."
"A Belgian soldier always smiles. Even when he is fighting." His voice
had lost its gayety and had taken on a deeper note. "Mademoiselle, I
have brought you here, where I can think of no other woman who would
have the courage to come, because you are needed. I cannot promise you
entire safety"--his mouth tightened--"but I can promise you work and
gratitude. Such gratitude, mademoiselle, as you may never know again."
That reassured her. But in her practical mind the matter of supplies
loomed large. She brought the matter up again directly.
"It is to be hot chocolate and soup?" he asked.
"Both, if I find I have enough money. Soup only, perhaps."
"And soup takes meat, of course."
"It should, to be strengthening."
Henri looked up, to see Jean in the doorway smiling grimly.
"It is very simple," Jean said to him in French. "You have no other
duties of course; so each day you shall buy in the market place at
Dunkirk, with American money. And I shall become a delivery boy and
bring out food for mademoiselle, and whatever is needed."
Henri smiled back at him cheerfully. "An excellent plan, Jean," he said.
"Not every day, but frequently."
Jean growled and disappeared.
However, there was the immediate present to think of, and while Jean
thawed his hands at the fire and Sara Lee was taking housewifely stock
of her new home, Henri disappeared.
He came back in a half hour, carrying in a small basket butter, eggs,
bread and potatoes.
"The miller!" he explained cheerfully to Sara Lee. "He has still a few
hens, and hidden somewhere a cow. We can have milk--is there a pail
for Marie to take to the mill?--and bread and an omelet. That is a
meal!"