"How is Father?" cried Pierrette. It was always the first
question when they saw her.

"Better," answered her Mother. " In another week or two the
doctor thinks he can be moved."

She was about to enter the shop to speak to Madame Coudert, when
the air was suddenly rent by a fearful roar of sound. She clasped
her children in her arms. "It's like thunder," she said, patting
them soothingly; "if you hear the roar you know at once that you
aren't killed. Come, we must hurry to the cellar." But before she
could take a single step in that direction there was another
terrible explosion.

"Look, oh look!" screamed Pierre, pointing to the Cathedral
towers, which were visible from where they stood; "they are
shelling the Cathedral!"

For an instant they stood as if rooted to the spot. Was it
possible the Germans would shell the place where their own
wounded lay--a place protected by the cross? They saw the
scaffolding about one of the towers burst suddenly into flames.
In another moment the fire had caught and devoured the Red Cross
flag itself and then sprang like a thing possessed to the roof.
An instant more, and that too was burning.

"Father!" screamed Pierre, and before any one could stop him or
even say a word, the boy was far up the street, running like a
deer toward the Cathedral. Pierrette was but a few steps behind