Chiniquy, taking advantage of his master's
preoccupation, wandered aimlessly against a barbed wire,
taking very good care not to get too close to it himself.
Jim came to himself just in time to save his leg from a
prod from the spikes.
"Chiniquy, Chiniquy," he said gravely, "I understand now
something of the hatred the French bear your illustrious
namesake. But no matter what the man's sins may have
been, surely he did not deserve to have a little
flea-bitten, mangey, treacherous, mouse-coloured deceiver
like you named for him."
When Camilla had read Pearl's letter to Mr. and Mrs.
Francis, the latter was all emotion. How splendid of her,
so sympathetic, so full of the true inwardness of Christian
love, and the sweet message of the poppy, the emblem of
sleep, so prophetic of that other sleep that knows no
waking! Is it not a pagan thought, that? What tender
recollections they will bring the poor sufferer of her
far away, happy childhood home!
Mrs. Francis's face was shining with emotion as she spoke.
Then she became dreamy.
"I wonder is her soul attune to the melodies of life,
and will she feel the love vibrations of the ether?"
Mr. Francis had noiselessly left the room when Camilla
had finished her rapid explanation. He returned with his
little valise in his hand.
He stood a moment irresolutely looking, in his helpless
dumb way, at his wife, who was so beautifully expounding
the message of the flowers.
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