The Road to Paris
With so extraordinary a combination of vehicles the journey of the Camp
Fire girls and their guardians to Paris became necessarily a slow and
frequently interrupted one.
In contrast with a recently built American motor car, Miss Patricia’s
present equipage suggested nothing more modern than Noah and his
admirable Ark.
Yet the two groups of friends and refugees wished to keep within
reasonable distance of each other. They both appreciated that if ever
they were separated for any distance, they might never be able to make
connections again.
The roads were becoming constantly more crowded with an increasing stream
of vehicles and travelers afoot, yet among them all no equipage was so
remarkable as Miss Patricia’s, or excited more interest.
Upon leaving the Château Yvonne, a quarter of an hour after Miss
Patricia’s belated arrival, there had been opportunity for only a hastily
arranged program.
At that time the plan had been for Mary Gilchrist, following Yvonne
Fleury’s instructions, to drive straight ahead. At any point in the road,
where a change of direction should be made, or any special instruction
given, Mary was to draw her car aside out of the way of the other
vehicles, there to await Miss Patricia’s slower approach.
The program possessed a good many obvious weaknesses and yet in the few
moments at their disposal before their departure, no one of the Camp Fire
party had a better plan to suggest.
Rather surprisingly well it succeeded in the beginning.
Even without the knowledge of Miss Patricia’s clumsy caravan in the
background, Mary Gilchrist would not have been able to drive rapidly.
When her car reached the main road, it was found to be not merely filled
with refugees seeking safety further behind the line. Reinforcements were
being rushed from the opposite direction to stem the German tide.
Advancing slowly the Camp Fire automobile took its place in the long line
of other vehicles. Now and then this line was halted by an officer, when
heavier trucks and wagons were to be allowed to pass.
Finally, at a convenient crossroad, where she did not interfere with the
other traffic, Mary halted.
Within less than half an hour Miss Patricia reached them. There she
insisted upon alighting, ostensibly to make certain inquiries and to
offer her usual advice, but in reality to discover the state of Mrs.
Burton’s health. No one was in the least deceived.
However, as Mrs. Burton insisted she was bearing the journey remarkably
well and was far more interested than frightened and that the Camp Fire
girls were in the same state of mind, Miss Patricia returned to her wagon
and the pilgrimage was resumed.
Toward late afternoon, the effort at a second reunion was less
successful.
It was now between four and five o’clock. A great wave of weariness and
depression appeared to be engulfing not only the Camp Fire travelers, but
the entire band of French refugees.
When they spoke at all to one another, it was only to tell some
depressing story. Surely the Germans would capture Paris with this latest
victorious assault. Some one reported that the Germans had perfected a
long-range gun which would bombard Paris at a distance of seventy miles.
The Camp Fire girls became subject to the same state of despondency. They
talked very little; moreover, it was plain to all of them that Mrs.
Burton was reaching the end of her reserve strength. Some time before,
she had ceased to have anything to say.
Without discussing the question, each one of the girls now understood
that they could not travel much further until morning. Some arrangement
must shortly be made for the night.
At five o’clock Mary Gilchrist and Yvonne Fleury, who were on the front
seat of the motor, discovered a small private road which led from the
main road into the yard of a small cottage. Here they concluded to await
the second coming of Miss Patricia.
Mrs. Burton they established on the tiny veranda in the front of the
house, to rest and at the same time to watch for the approach of the
others, while the girls went to make investigations. The house they had
chosen seemed to be entirely deserted.
Too tired to care what was going on about her, for some time Mrs. Burton
sat huddled in her heavy fur coat. She was too exhausted even to care
what became of herself or of anyone else.
At first she scarcely noticed that the Camp Fire girls had left her a
long time alone, or that Miss Patricia had failed to appear. But when
more than half an hour went by she began to feel nervous.
One could readily imagine that Miss Patricia’s collection of farm animals
might have given out from their long march and be unable to continue the
journey.
Mrs. Burton also began to worry over Sally Ashton and Vera. She had not
been able to exchange a word with either of them on their arrival at the
château, and knew nothing of their experiences in the last few days since
they had said goodby at the farmhouse on the Aisne.
The March winds were growing piercingly cold now that the sun was dying
down. Still the little groups of refugees kept moving on past the yard of
the cottage where Mrs. Burton sat waiting.
Finally the travelers seemed to be growing fewer in number; they too must
have become exhausted by their long pilgrimage and be taking shelter or
else resting along the roadside.
Stiff from the cold and having remained seated so long, as no one of the
Camp Fire girls came back to join her, Mrs. Burton at length rose and
walked out of the yard of the cottage toward the main road. It might be
possible that catching sight of Miss Patricia’s approach she would be
relieved of her anxiety.
After strolling on for a few yards, Mrs. Burton observed a crowd of
refugees who must have halted to rest. They were seated in small groups
along either side of the road. Drawing nearer, Mrs. Burton saw that their
faces wore that look of patient endurance, which in the past few months
she had witnessed so many times in the faces of the French peasants. They
were not uncheerful, now that they were resting. Eating their evening
meal life seemed to hold out fresh hope. After all, had they not been
assured that the United States was each day landing thousands of fresh
troops in France? Soon the enemy would be driven out of France forever!
Then, a little further on, Mrs. Burton beheld a familiar and well beloved
figure.
Passing between the groups of refugees, most of them old men and women
who had been traveling on foot, pushing perambulators or else drawing
wagons laden with tiny children or their few household possessions,
marched Miss Patricia Lord.
She appeared to be dispensing food to her fellow travelers, as on one arm
she was carrying a large pail and on the other a basket.
Discovering Mrs. Burton she set both the pail and the basket down in the
middle of the road and strode forward, and for once in her life Miss
Patricia appeared apologetic.
“Polly, my dear, forgive me for keeping you waiting so long. I hope you
are not utterly worn out; I am extremely worried about you and yet I
could not resist what I am doing at present. I have had no opportunity to
tell you that I brought away with me from our farmhouse nearly all the
food supply we had in our possession. It was my intention then to feed as
many refugees as possible along the road to Paris. I presume I should
have thought of you first, but I believed you would feel obliged to wait
for me somewhere and that you had journeyed far enough for today. Come
with me.”
Meekly following Miss Patricia, who had by this time picked up her now
empty basket and pail, Mrs. Burton walked on a few yards more.
In a little patch of grass, springing up near the roadside under the few
warm rays of the March sun, Mrs. Burton found old Jean, the French
peasant, milking one of Miss Patricia’s cows. Beside him and engaged in a
similar occupation was a young French boy.
Drawn up out of the way of the other vehicles, that were still passing
along the main road, Miss Patricia’s horses and wagon were waiting.
Standing beside the wagon, was Vera Lagerloff. She was bestowing a small
package of food upon anyone who requested it, but at the same time
keeping careful watch on the main supply.
Not until a second glance, did Mrs. Burton discover what had become of
Sally Ashton. Then she saw Sally standing listlessly a few feet away,
making no effort to help either Vera or Miss Patricia and scarcely
appearing to notice the people about her.
As her Camp Fire guardian approached, Sally tried to express a proper
degree of enthusiasm and affection, yet Sally’s appearance frightened and
puzzled Mrs. Burton.
She did not look at her directly, yet one could see that the expression
of her eyes had changed. They had lost their childish look of dreaming
and were wide open and startled. Her face had ceased to possess its
former softly rounded curve and there were tiny hollows in her cheeks and
lines about her mouth.
“Sally, I am tired, won’t you come with me? I do not feel strong enough
to walk alone. The other girls and I have found a little cottage not far
away which we think deserted. I believe we had best spend the night
there. We are all too weary to go on any further and besides, darkness
will be upon us in another hour. I will explain to Aunt Patricia, and she
and Vera will join us later when they have finished feeding the little
multitude.”
After a few words of explanation to Miss Patricia, Sally and Mrs. Burton
went on toward the abandoned cottage, neither of them attempting any
conversation.
Approaching them a few yards from the house were Alice Ashton and Bettina
Graham. At once Alice took charge of her sister and Bettina of their Camp
Fire guardian.
Both girls reported that the house they had discovered was entirely
abandoned and that they had taken possession of it for the night. Supper
was ready and waiting.
An hour after the entire party was asleep.