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           "Takehimintoyourroom,"whisperedBobbietotheStationMaster."MothercantalkFrench.She’llbeherebythenexttrainfromMaidbridge."

           TheStationMastertookthearmofthestranger,suddenlybutnotunkindly.Butthemanwrenchedhisarmaway,andcoweredbackcoughingandtremblingandtryingtopushtheStationMasteraway.

           "Oh,don’t!"saidBobbie;"don’tyouseehowfrightenedheis?Hethinksyou’regoingtoshuthimup.Iknowhedoes—lookathiseyes!"

           "They’relikeafox’seyeswhenthebeast’sinatrap,"saidthefarmer.

           "Oh,letmetry!"Bobbiewenton;"IdoreallyknowoneortwoFrenchwordsifIcouldonlythinkofthem."

           Sometimes,inmomentsofgreatneed,wecandowonderfulthings—thingsthatinordinarylifewecouldhardlyevendreamofdoing.BobbiehadneverbeenanywherenearthetopofherFrenchclass,butshemusthavelearnedsomethingwithoutknowingit,fornow,lookingatthosewild,huntedeyes,sheactuallyrememberedand,whatismore,spoke,someFrenchwords.Shesaid:—

           "Vousattendre.MamereparlezFrancais.Nous—what’stheFrenchfor‘beingkind’?"

           Nobodyknew.

           "Bongis‘good,’"saidPhyllis.

           "Nousetrebongpourvous.