settle themselves a little. The peasants even now do not believe it has come. We are not much more than an hour from Paris, but there are many persons living in this village who have never been to Paris. The old men stand in groups and talk politics, disagreeing on every subject under the sun except the one great subject and that is Germany. Hatred of Germany[10] is the one thing that there are no two minds about. The women look big-eyed and awestruck. There are no young men—all gone to war. They went off singing and joking.

[10]

What I long for most is news. We don’t get any news to speak of. I am filled with concern about Bobby and Mamma. It is foolish, as they are able to take care of themselves, but Bobby is so sassy. I am so afraid he might jaw back at the Emperor. He is fully capable of calling him to account for his behavior. Some one should, but I hope it won’t be Bobby.

Polly Perkins is going to drive a Red Cross Ambulance. He is quite determined, so determined that he has actually produced a chin from somewhere (you remember he boasted none to speak of). It is quite becoming to him, this determination and chin, and Jo is beaming with pride. I believe if Polly had wanted to run, it would have killed Jo.

Excuse the jerkiness of this, but I am so excited that I can only jot down a little at a time.[11] Things are moving fast! The artists and near artists at Madame Gaston’s Inn are piling out, making for Paris, some to sail for United States and others to try to get into England. Jo and I had determined to sit tight in our little house with its lovely walled garden that seems a kind of protection to us—not that we are scared, bless you no! We just felt we might as well be here as anywhere else.

[11]

This morning Jo came to breakfast looking kind of different and yet kind of familiar—she had cut off her hair!

“I mean to follow Polly,” she remarked simply.

“Follow him where?”

“Wherever he goes.” And do you know, Molly, the redoubtable Jo burst into tears?

I was never more shocked in my life. If your Aunt Sarah Clay had dissolved into tears, I would not have been more at a loss how to conduct myself. I patted her heartily on the back but the poor girl wanted a shoulder to weep on and I lent her one. I tell you when Jo gets started she[12] is some bawler. I fancy she made up for all the many years that 

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