My Home In The Field of Honor | Page 9

sense of relief.
Before leaving home H. told me to seek out the grocer, and to lay in a stock of everything she dispensed.
"You see," said he, "we're now cut off from all resources. There are no big cities where we can get supplies, within driving reach, and our grocers will have nothing to sell once their stock is exhausted. We're living in the hope that the mobilization will last three weeks. That will you do if it lasts longer? It never hurts to have a supply on hand!"
"All my salt, sugar and gasoline has been put aside for the army. I was ordered to do that this morning--but come around to the back door and I'll see what I can do for you," said my amiable grocery-woman.
"That's pleasant," thought I. "No gasoline--no motor--no electricity! Privation is beginning early. But why grumble! We'll go to bed with the chickens and won't miss it!"
Madame Leger and I made out a long list of groceries and household necessities, and she set to work weighing and packing, and finally began piling the bundles into the trap drawn up close to her side door.
Our dear old Cesar must have been surprised by the load he had to carry home, but Elizabeth and I decided that a "bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," and one never could tell what astonishing "order" to-morrow might bring forth.
How H. laughed when he saw us driving up the avenue.
"I didn't think you'd take me so literally," said he. "Why, war isn't even declared, and here we are preparing for a siege!"
"Never mind," I returned, "you must remember that there are twelve persons to feed, and we'll soon get away with all I've got here."
The afternoon was spent in arranging our apartments. For convenience sake, we decided to close part of the chateau and all live as near together as possible in one wing. The children and younger servants seemed to consider the whole as a huge joke--or rather, a prolonged picnic party, and the house rang with peals of jolly laughter.
Monday, the third, Elizabeth and I tackled the provisions which were piled high on the table in the servants' hall. A visit to the storeroom and a little calculation showed that there were sufficient groceries already on hand to last the month out.
"Very good," said I. "Now, the rest we'll divide into three even parts --that makes September, October and November assured. By that time we'll know what precautions to take!"
"Well, I should hope so!" came the smiling reply. And we set to work. It all recalled the days of my childhood when I used to play at housekeeping and would measure out on the scales of my dolls' house so much rice, so much flour, so much macaroni, etc. I could hardly believe I was in earnest.
We were right in the midst of our task when our gardeners appeared bearing between them a clothes basket full of plums.
"Madame, they can't wait a day longer. They're ready to cook now."
It was almost a disagreeable surprise, for we were already as busy as we could be. But there was no way of waiting, or the fruit would be spoiled.
"Is that all the plums?"
"Ah, no, Madame, there are fully two baskets more. And in a day or two the blackberries and black currants must be picked or they'll rot on the vines."
"Heaven preserve us!" thought I. "Will we ever come to the end of it all!" But by four o'clock the first basket of plums was stoned, the sugar weighed, and a huge copper basin of confiture was merrily boiling on the stove.
"Where are you going to hide your provisions now you've got them so beautifully tied up?" enquired H., his eyes twinkling.
"Hide them?"
"Yes!"
"What for?"
"In case of invasion."
We all simply shook with laughter.
"Well, if the Germans ever reach here there won't be much hope for us all," I returned.
"No, but joking aside; suppose we suddenly get the French troops quartered on us, are you calmly going to produce your stock, let it be devoured in a day or so, and remain empty-handed when they depart? You see, it isn't the little fellows who'll suffer. A big place like this with all its rooms and its stables is just the spot for a camp!"
That idea had never dawned upon us, and we set to thinking where we could securely hide our groceries in three different places. Finally it was agreed that one part should be put back of the piles of sheets in the linen closet; the second part hidden on the top shelf of a very high cupboard in my dressing-room with toilet articles grouped in front of it; while the third was carried up a tiny flight of stairs to the attic and there pushed through a