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Far from the sound of guns! Sunshine on Golden-Eyes' head and peace in her heart—for a little while. After Bill's heroic and triumphant march back from the lines in the cheering midst of his Dough-boys, his dog safe and his girl on his heart again—the streets of Paris knew the tap of Golden-Eyes' little feet—and the French her passing smile. Golden-Eyes was loaded down to sagging with burdens of jewels from many a chateau and town-house Captain Hugo had decked her in—and some that he hadn't—that Golden-Eyes had remembered to rescue for the sake of the silver lilies of France captive on his walls. What to do with them!!! Long ago their owners had vanished—no one to claim them—for Golden-Eyes did search. So the gay little American who had grown a soberer and more tender heart in service, sold every pretty ting, down tot he last glitter and glint of gold and diamond. And behold there was enough and more in Golden-Eyes' small fist to provide for around hundred French babies—orphaned by War!
Far from the sound of guns again, in the still, sunny peace of the garden of a beautiful chateau, under a tender sky, hearing birds again, with a tear and smile welded in her heart, Bill's sweetheart passed a sunny week with lovable babies climbing over her, strangling her with loving arms, playing war about her and calling her with every breath, "Petite Maman Golden-Eyes!"
And Uncle Same endured their kisses and elaborate affection with true collie courtesy.
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