[Illustration: IT WAS A RACE TO PICK THE LEAVES]

 The Story of Silk

 BY

 SARA WARE BASSETT

 Author of

 "THE STORY OF WOOL" "THE STORY OF LEATHER" "THE STORY OF IRON" "THE STORY OF GLASS" "THE STORY OF SUGAR" "THE STORY OF PORCELAIN"

 ILLUSTRATED BY HATTIE LONGSTREET PRICE

 THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 1925

 COPYRIGHT 1918 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY

 _To the Boys and Girls of Auburndale, Massachusetts, this book is affectionately inscribed_

Contents

 I. The Bretton Family 9

 II. The Silk House 22

 III. Père Benedict 34

 IV. A Supper Party 52

 V. The Silkworms 63

 VI. Busy Days 76

 VII. The Silk Harvest 90

 VIII. Pierre Makes a Friend 100

 IX. Henri Makes a Suggestion 120

 X. The Awakening of the Chrysalis 133

 XI. Pierre Takes Another Journey 144

 XII. The Home-Coming 156

 XIII. Pierre Takes the Helm 172

 XIV. Pierre as a Teacher 182

 XV. The Great Surprise 206

Illustrations

 PAGE

 It Was a Race to Pick the Leaves Frontispiece

 "It Is Like a Fairy Story" 46

 He Led the Way Into a Long Room 108

 "Go on Tiptoe" 140

 A Royal Feast 169

 "I Shall Do My Best" 190

[Illustration]

THE STORY OF SILK

CHAPTER I

THE BRETTON FAMILY

Madame Antoinette Bretton went for the third time to the door of hertiny cottage and, shading her eyes, looked anxiously up the side of theice-capped mountain that flanked the garden. There was still no one insight, and with a shake of her head she returned to the coarse greysocks she was knitting. 

It was late afternoon, and through the stillness she could hear the roarof the river, the tinkle of herd-bells, and the faint sound of chimesfrom the far-away village chapel. How quiet the house seemed withoutMarie and Pierre! The boy and girl had climbed to the hillside pastureto drive the goats down for milking and Hector, the great St. Bernarddog that had been the children's companion ever since they were born, had gone with them, for Hector was an expert at rounding up a herd. Although he was not a young dog he had the zeal of a puppy; with this hecombined the wisdom of a sage, and it was for the latter reason thatMadame Bretton never worried about her children when Hector was withthem. For to Madame Bretton the boy and the girl were still children. Neither Hector, Marie, nor Pierre had dreamed of being really grown upuntil the Great War had come and Monsieur Bretton, together with UncleJacques, had been called to the colors of France. 

Throughout the valley were other boys and girls whose fathers, brothers, and uncles had left their homes behind--boys and girls who were not asold as Marie or Pierre, but who nevertheless were courageously trying todo the work of their elders. Marie was now nearly fifteen, and Pierrewas sixteen; but when suddenly called upon to take their father's place, they felt much older. Yesterday they had been children with little to dobut play; to-day work was ahead of them, much hard work, which seemed tohave aged them in a single night and turned them from boy and girl intoresponsible grown up persons. 

What a different village Bellerivre was with so many of its men away!

Yet how bravely its peasants had responded to the call, and howdauntlessly those left behind had risen to meet the new conditions ofliving!

"We who remain at home must keep things running in the customarygrooves, so that our soldiers may find the town unchanged when theyreturn, " had been the cry. 

And so these noble-hearted mothers and children had toileduncomplainingly at garden, vineyard, and loom; had tended flocks ofgoats and cattle; and had harvested the hay and grain. For Bellerivre, walled in between the river Eisen and the snowy capped Pyrenees, was afertile valley on which, in spite of the tragedy of national warfare, the sun seemed ever to shine. It was a mere dot of a place, with avine-covered chapel, a low white convent tucked away among the hills, and a scattering of houses. In the centre of the town stood La Maison deSainte Genevieve, the home of Monsieur le Curé, the much loved parishpriest, who although bent and white-haired was the friend, counselor, and teacher of both young and old. The little schoolhouse where he hadbeen accustomed to meet the children was, however, now closed; for inthese troublous war days boys and girls had far more important duties toperform than to learn lessons. There were the great vineyards thatstriped the hills--these must not perish for want of care; then therewere the gardens and hay-fields. 

But none of these things, vital as they appeared, were of firstimportance in the community. It was from quite a different source thatthe peasants of Bellerivre derived their livelihood--a source peculiarif one was unfamiliar with it, but which had been the primary interestof the valley ever since its people could remember. They raisedsilkworms!

Not only did the father of Marie and Pierre earn his living thus, but soalso did most of the other fathers in that green valley. As long ago asthe boy and girl had been old enough to walk they had toddled out intothe sunshine and helped gather mulberry leaves; and they had not beenmuch older than this before they had learned exactly what kind of leavesthe tiny spinners liked best to eat. The precious grove of whitemulberry trees had been planted years before by M. Bretton, and had beencherished with greatest care ever since. Each season new trees had beenadded and so spaced that their roots might have room to spread. Aroundeach tree a trench was dug to hold the moisture. Some of the trees hadbeen raised from seed and transplanted into the mulberry grove when theywere three years old; others had been rooted from slips or cuttings--amuch quicker and less troublesome process. It was always necessary tohave some new trees at hand that the very young silkworms might havetender leaves to feed upon. 

How strange it was that out of the vast variety of vegetation these tinycreatures would eat nothing but mulberry leaves! Over and over again, M. Bretton told his children, people had experimented with the leaves ofother plants--with lettuce, spinach, and various of the greens from thegarden. But it was useless. The wee spinners scorned every suchoffering. One woman, it is true, had succeeded in raising a few worms onwitch-grass; but they had not prospered, the silk from their cocoonsproving poor. Mulberry leaves they craved and mulberry leaves they musthave. In time the French peasants as well as the silk raisers of othernations abandoned their experiments and went to learning how to growmulberry trees, studying with care not only which mulberry was best fortheir silkworms but also which of the species flourished mostsuccessfully in the soil of their particular country. 

The more they investigated the more varieties of mulberries came tolight. There was the Tartarica, or Tartar mulberry, found on the Volga;the Papyfera, or paper mulberry, from Japan; the Chinese mulberry; andthe more common varieties of red, black, and white mulberry. To the soilof southern France the so-called white mulberry tree seemed bestadapted, and therefore the French peasants began cultivating itextensively, mingling with it, however, some of the rarer Chinesecuttings when these could be secured. 

Many a lesson did the people learn about the mulberry tree while theywere perfecting its growth! They found the leaves could be reached muchmore easily if the top of the tree was clipped so that it would grow lowand bushy; this enabled children to harvest the leaves, and did awaywith expensive labor. But because of the luxuriant climate of France andItaly the trees of those countries could seldom be kept low, and usuallygatherers had to use ladders to reach the leaves--a process by whichmany of them were injured and rendered useless. As no silkworm wouldtouch a bruised leaf much of the crop was wasted. In China, where thetrees seldom grew beyond the size of shrubs, the conditions forgathering perfect leaves were ideal; especially as the Chinese cut awaymuch of the under part of the trees, so that the gatherers might go inbeneath them. In addition to these interesting facts people discoveredthat if a single twig was broken from the mulberry tree several newshoots would branch out in its place. This was surely a valuable thingto know. Moreover, they learned that the leaves of the white mulberrywere the most tender; that those of the red ranked next; and that theblack came last in delicacy. Few French or Italian people used theblack, but in the colder countries, where it flourished better than didother kinds, it was used almost entirely. Another delightful discoveryof the sericulturists, as silkworm raisers are called, was that whentheir mulberry trees were once properly planted they would, with goodcare, live to a marvelous old age--some of them even reaching thedignity of two or three hundred years. But unless snails and otherdestructive grubs were kept away the trees would not thrive. The finerand more carefully grafted they were the greater the damage resultingfrom hungry insects. In contrast the wild mulberry with its acid andbitter sap presented far less temptation and therefore lived longer thandid the cultivated species. 

This and many another lesson did the father of Marie and Pierre have tolearn before he could successfully raise mulberry trees--to say nothingof silkworms. He must know how to prepare the mulberry seeds by crushingthe fruit, covering the pulp with water, and separating the seeds fromthe waste part of the berry. He must know, too, how to spread the seedsupon cloth and lay them in the sun to dry, after which they were putaway in covered jars, secure from air and moisture, and stored in somedark place until needed for planting. 

To Marie and Pierre, brought up amid the environment of many a mulberrygrove, these facts were an old story, and how fortunate it was that thiswas so. Now that their father and Uncle Jacques had gone to the war mostof the care of the silkworms would fall to them. There was, to be sure, Josef the old gardener--he could give advice; but he was too old andcrippled to do much work. 

And therefore it was the two children, together with their mother, whowere planning for their first harvest of cocoons, and were eagerlyawaiting the unfurling of the mulberry leaves before beginning to hatchout their crop of silkworm eggs. How anxiously they had watched thetrees! How eagerly scanned the swelling buds! Ah, it could not be longnow. Was not the river a torrent from the melting of the winter's snows?Was not the sun warmer, the heaven bluer, the ground fragrant as ifnewly awake? Soon the mulberry trees would be sending forth theirleaves. Until they did, however, it would be useless to hatch the eggsso carefully laid away, for there would be no food to give the ravenouslittle spinners should they rouse from their long sleep. 

And so Marie, and Pierre, and their mother strove to be patient, contenting themselves in the meantime with preparing the empty rooms ofthe silk-house, where the caterpillars were to be raised. Many a timethey had not only seen this done but had assisted in the process. Everystep of the work was familiar. They knew well that the labor of makingthe place immaculate was far from wasted, for unless the rooms werespotless the fastidious spinners would either sicken and die, or wouldrefuse to fashion their wonderful webs. 

M. Bretton, who had spent a good portion of his slender income inconstructing the up-to-date shelter that housed his caterpillars, oftenlaughingly declared that their accommodations were far more luxuriousthan were those where his own family lived. Nevertheless it was moneywell invested, he argued, since already he had got back from the sale ofhis cocoons many times over what the plant had cost him. So successfulhad he been that his example had been followed by many of his moreprosperous neighbors until now Bellerivre, tiny as it was, could boastas fine equipment for sericulture as could be found in all France. 

Poor M. Bretton! How proud he had been of his handiwork! How modestlyexultant over his good fortune! And now that he had been forced toabandon it all and go to the Great War it was unthinkable to his wifeand children that they should not take up his work and strive to carryit on. Nay, the very bread they ate depended upon their doing so. 

Hence do you marvel that Marie, Pierre, and Madame Bretton labored earlyand late and denied themselves many things they wanted, that instead themoney might be spent to further the industry that M. Bretton hadcherished? And since what we work for becomes the centre of ourinterests it logically followed that all three of them found their taskan absorbingly fascinating one. Playtime and study were cast cheerfullyaside, and in place of them the boy and girl received each day the morevital compensations that come from unselfishness and hard work. 

It was Marie who first detected that the buds near the ends of themulberry branches were opening. 

As she and Pierre drove the flock of goats down the steep mountain trailwhich led from the plateau where the pasture lay she glanced across thevalley. Against the blue sky a tracery of delicate green was showing. 

"Pierre!" she cried, "see! The mulberry buds are awaking! Look! Do younot catch that bit of color against the clouds? We will wait no longer. Let us tell Mother to take the silkworm eggs out of the dark room andput them where it is light. Soon there will be plenty of new leaves. Hurrah, Pierre!"

With a rush Marie bounded past her brother and ran down the narrow pathscattering the goats before her in every direction, and sending Hectorracing homeward with yelps of delight. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II

THE SILK-HOUSE

Marie's prediction proved a true one, for within another fortnight themulberry buds were tipped with green, and it was evident they would bein leaf with the coming of a few more days of warm sunshine. 

"Our silk-growing will begin in earnest now, " declared Madame Bretton, "and before it does I think we'd better take one last careful survey ofthe silk-house to make sure that everything is all right. "

From a peg over the fireplace she took down a key, and going out, crossed the lawn to a building which stood opposite. The children dancedafter her, entering the silent structure with prancing steps. Onceinside, however, they stopped their skipping as if automatically andinstead began creeping softly about on their tiptoes. Then Pierreglanced up and laughed. 

"I declare if we are not as quiet as though the silkworms were herealready, " said he. 

His mother smiled. 

"It is force of habit, " she answered. "We always have to be so quietwhen they are here that it is hard to remember there is no need for theprecaution when the building is empty. How odd it is that their hearingshould be so acute! No one who has not had the care of silkworms canrealize the disastrous results of startling them. "

"Father once told me he had known of a lot of silkworms that stoppedeating and died because a sudden noise frightened them, " observedPierre. 

"Such a calamity is not at all unusual, Pierre, " returned his mother. "And more than that, if anything alarms them after they have begun tospin they will frequently snap the thread of their cocoon and refuse tospin any more; if they do continue the interruption causes a lump, orrough place, in the filament so that it is imperfect and has to bebroken and tied. In consequence the silk is poorer and brings a lowerprice. So you see how really important it is not to jar their sensitivenerves. "

"Who would think that one of those green caterpillars had any nerves!"ventured Marie. "Is it true, Mother, that a thunder-storm will checktheir spinning?"

"Yes. It often does if the thunder is very heavy. Your father once lostan entire crop of silkworms because of a severe thunder-storm. Thelittle creatures died of fright. It is wonderful how delicately attunedthey are. "

"And their sense of smell is so keen, " Marie continued thoughtfully. "Iremember one day Father hurried me out of the silk-house because I hadsome perfume on my handkerchief. I was so cross, " she added with ashamefaced little flush, "for I thought the perfume very nice and Icouldn't understand why he did not like it. "

"Miss Vanity!" cried Pierre. "I guess afterward you saw he was deadright. He couldn't take the chance of losing his silkworms, and I don'tblame him, either. It is far too much work to raise them; isn't it, Mother?"

"I rather think you will say so when you have raised your own crop, " wasthe quiet answer. 

"Do you remember the Italian Father hired to help him once; and how heafterward sent the man away because he would smoke, and smelled oftobacco all the time?"

"Yes. That was another example of the same thing, " replied MadameBretton. "Your father was afraid to risk keeping the man. Thecaterpillars might scent the tobacco and object to it. "

"I had no idea they were so fussy!" gasped Marie. "I do hope oursilkworms won't get frightened and die, or else have something make themstop spinning. "

"I don't believe they will if we take good care of them, " was hermother's soothing answer. "Still, we never can tell. We must heedeverything Father has told us if we want to make a success of our task. To begin with there are the mulberry trees--we must not strip them ofleaves too early in the season, for if we do the sap will be lost, andthe strength of the tree weakened; in addition we must be careful not towaste the leaves by gathering too many at a time, or by getting thewrong kind. You know the worms will eat only freshly gathered leaves. Let us not forget that. And the young silkworms must have small andtender ones. As they grow older they will need more solid food and theirdevelopment will keep pace with the advancing vegetation. It is thesaccharine they take from the leaf that makes them grow; if you feedthem tough leaves with little saccharine in them the poor worm has allthe labor of eating a vast quantity of material that simply takes itsstrength and leaves it exhausted and unnourished. Of course we haveplenty of leaves to choose from and we shall not need to economize oursupply of food. But where people grow silk in great quantities theycalculate very closely, and plan to get the greatest number of pounds ofsilk from the smallest possible number of leaves. That is the way allprofessional silk-growers work. Paying their leaf-gatherers is quite anexpense, and they do not wish this item needlessly large. They buy theleaves by weight, and the leaf purchasers soon become expert inselecting those lots that are the most nutritious; for every one wantshis silkworms to grow large and strong so that they may spin finecocoons and give out a valuable quality of silk. "

"Why, Mother, just feeding them is an absolute science in itself then, "sighed Pierre in dismay. "I thought if we kept them from going hungry itwas all we had to do. We never shall be wise enough to work out such aproblem as you have put to us. "

"It is not to be expected that we shall, " replied his mother kindly. "Such scientific treatment of silkworms takes both knowledge andexperience. Many people raise a good crop of cocoons without knowingmuch more than we do--sometimes not as much. I was only telling you thepossibilities of the industry if one were to pursue it on a large scale. If you and Marie and I keep our silkworms alive, clean, and well-fed, and reap a reasonable harvest of cocoons, we must be satisfied. I shallconsider we have done well. Only let us not waste more leaves than wemust. In time we shall learn to estimate about how many to gather at apicking. Fortunately here in France the mulberry trees yield more leavesthan they do in most countries, so I am not worried lest we fall short. In some countries the number of leaves is very limited, and thegatherers are compelled to be exceedingly careful not to waste them. Iremember hearing your father say that in Persia, where the climate isvery hot, the natives gather small branches of leaves, that they may befresher than they would be if picked one at a time. "

"Why don't we do that here?" inquired Marie. "I should think it would bea fine plan. "

"It isn't, " responded her mother. "In the first place it injures thetrees to take off so many twigs and let so much sap escape; furthermore, it makes more waste to clear away. We should only be making ourselveswork were we to follow such a method. The best way is to gather thesingle leaves just as we always have done. There will be four of us, for old Josef can help us. It is fortunate he did not go to the war, forwhile he helped your father he learned many things about silk-raisingwhich will be useful to us, I am sure. "

"I wish the silkworms did not eat so much, " grumbled Marie. 

"They must eat if they are to grow, dear, " said Madame Bretton. "Everycreature eats more while growing--even children, " she addedmischievously. "But a silkworm does all its growing in a very shortspace of time, and in proportion to its size grows faster than almostany other living thing. Remember, its whole life is over in a few shortweeks. It must live very fast while it lives. "

"If only ours _do_ live, " interpolated Marie dubiously. 

"I see no reason to fear they won't, " Madame Bretton said once more. "But we must neglect nothing. It is the trifling carelessnesses thatbring bad results--the tiny things that it seems silly to take thetrouble to do. If we lose our crop of cocoons because of slighting thelittle details it will be our own fault, and we shall deserve failure;if, on the other hand, we do the best we know, we shall have no regrets. We must take every precaution to keep the silk-house clean andwell-ventilated, for silkworms demand spotless surroundings as well asplenty of fresh air. Then we must not allow withered leaves or otherrefuse to collect on the shelves where the worms are feeding, for anywaste matter ferments and causes disease. "

"Aren't silkworms very likely to get sick anyway, Mother?" queriedPierre. 

"They are susceptible to certain diseases, " nodded Madame Bretton. "Forexample, there are epidemics which sometimes sweep away the hatching ofan entire season; sometimes, too, the eggs are diseased and hatch intodiseased caterpillars, which in turn lay more diseased eggs. This wasthe tragedy that befell France in 1847. At that time the French peoplecould get no healthy eggs anywhere in their own country, and were forcedto send to Italy for them. Afterward the infection spread to Italy. Thenthose from the region of the Danube, where growers had been purchasingthem, also became diseased. The plague spread even to China, until in1865 the only good eggs to be had were those from India. You can imaginewhat a terrible experience that was for the peasants. Not only did theylose all the eggs that they had raised and stored, but as most of themwere poor they could not afford to import perfect eggs from India. Hencemany of them gave up silk-raising entirely and the price both ofsilkworms and of silk became enormous. Only the very rich could affordto buy either. "

"How did people ever get out of such a tangle, Mother?" questionedMarie, much interested. 

"Little by little those fortunate persons who secured good eggs sold afew to those who had none, and the crop soon increased, for onesilkworm-moth will lay as many as two or three hundred eggs. But even atthis rate it took many years to get the industry up to where it wasbefore. It was a terrible misfortune to the French and Italian peasants, and you may be pretty sure that as a result of the calamity every oneset about being careful to prevent another such disaster. Now whensilkworms are ill they are quickly isolated, just as people are who havecontagious diseases. And if there is danger of wide-spread infection, and the growers think best not to take any risks, they will even killmany of the caterpillars outright. The sacrifice is sometimes great, butit is a necessary precaution. Furthermore, present day sericulturistshave learned much about growing silkworms, and the importance of keepingthe silk-houses clean and well aired; they have found that they mustpreserve an even temperature within the buildings; wash the walls downwith lime to purify the atmosphere; sterilize the trays from which theworms feed; and hatch the eggs in large, airy places. The mostup-to-date growers who work on a large scale use incubators. Of course, however, there are still some ignorant peasants who insist on hatchingthe caterpillars inside their clothing, where the warmth from theirbodies will bring the eggs quickly to maturity. Fortunately there arenot many who do this. They have learned better. "

"I should hope so!" ejaculated both Marie and Pierre in a breath. 

There was a moment of silence; then the boy looked up into his mother'sface and said:

"I understand now why Father was so particular. "

"Your father is an intelligent man, who believes that 'trifles makeperfection and that perfection is no trifle, '" answered Madame Bretton. "He has raised some very fine silk and made a good profit by selling it. But every franc of the money was earned--it never came to him easily. "

"We'll try to do as well as he has, won't we, Mother?" Marie saidsoftly. 

"We must not expect to do anything as well as your father would havedone it; he has been a very successful silk-grower. But we will do aswell as we are able, " returned Madame Bretton with a sad, far-awayglance. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III

PÈRE BENEDICT

When Madame Bretton and the children returned from their inspection ofthe silk-house they were surprised to find Monsieur le Curé, good FatherBenedict, awaiting them. The priest was sitting contentedly in thesunshine, his walking-stick in his hand, and the gentle breeze stirringhis white hair. Beside him stood Hector with nose on the Curé's knee andgreat brown eyes looking into the kindly face of the old man. 

Madame Bretton hurried forward. 

"Why, Father!" she exclaimed. "Who would have thought of finding youhere! Have you been waiting long?"

"But a few minutes, my dear, " was the answer. "I knew well you could nothave strayed far, for the house was unlocked, and the kettle steaming onthe hob. "

"So it was, " laughed Madame Bretton. "You must stay and share ourporridge with us, Father. It is just supper time, and you have had along walk from the village. You must be hungry. The children and I wouldbe so glad if you would be our guest. "

Marie and Pierre added their pleas. 

"Do stay, Father, " they cried. "Stay and tell us some stories. "

Monsieur le Curé smiled into their eager faces. 

"I will gladly stay if you are sure the porridge----"

"There is enough, Father, and to spare, " declared Madame Bretton. "Buthad I known you were coming you should have had one of the hot tea cakesthat you like so much. "

"Ah, a tea cake--how good it is! You are a rare cook, my daughter. " Heglanced into Madame Bretton's face with radiant smile. "But is nothearty welcome better than a pyramid of tea cakes? If you are sure aboutthe porridge----"

He chuckled playfully. 

"There is plenty, Father--plenty, " put in Marie. "I saw Mother measureit. And if there weren't you should have mine, " she added as shejoyously seized his baretta and stick and hurried away with them. 

"You are a good child, Marie, " the old priest called after her. "Nowmake haste to put my things away, and then you and Pierre shall comehere and tell me how your silk-raising is getting on. Have you begun tohatch out your silkworms yet?"

The boy and girl nestled at his side. Had not Father Benedict broughtthem up; and was he not friend as well as teacher? In every home inBellerivre his coming was hailed with delight, and his departurefollowed with regret. He possessed the rare attributes of sympathy andsimplicity sometimes blended in great natures. None of his flockexperienced a happiness too trivial for him to exult in, or a grief toopersonal for him to share. 

Madame Bretton glanced for a second at the group on the door-step--atthe white-haired man, the bright-faced children, the old dog; then shesoftly tiptoed into the house to make ready the evening meal. 

"We haven't hatched any of our silkworms yet, Father, " answered Marie, "but everything is prepared, and we shall begin in a day or two; perhapsto-morrow if there is warm sun. "

"That is right, " nodded the priest. "It is full time they were underway. That is one reason I came to see you. You live so far away that Ifeared you might not know that all through the valley the silk-raisingis beginning. Already some of the peasants in the village have hatchedtheir eggs; but I think they were a bit too hurried about it, for thetrees are hardly leaved out enough yet. Sometimes it is as bad to be tooearly as too late. I hope you are going to have fine luck, my dears, fine luck! And indeed I don't see why you shouldn't. "

"We hope so too, Father. It means a great deal to us to succeed, youknow, " responded Pierre gravely. "You see it is not alone that we needthe money for ourselves. It is for Mother as well; and so that we mayalso send things to Father and Uncle Jacques. "

The priest patted the boy's head. 

"I know, I know, " he answered softly. "Well, be of good courage, mychildren, and do not be disheartened if you meet with failure at thestart. Try a second time, and a third, and many more. The people whofirst raised silkworms had to try and fail many, many times before theysucceeded. "

"Who did first raise silkworms, Father?" questioned Marie. "I waswondering about it the other day. Where did we get the first silkwormeggs, and who thought of reeling the silk from the cocoons?"

"That is a pretty big question, Marie, " laughed Father Benedict. "Nobodycan be exactly sure who originated the industry of sericulture. Certainit was, however, that before other countries had sugar, or china, orsilk, the Chinese people were producing all of these things. But theywere a selfish nation, and jealous of allowing any one else to share intheir progress. Therefore they shut the rest of the world out of theirdiscoveries and kept to themselves the secret of how they obtained theproducts they manufactured. For China, you must know, was a great walledcountry where travelers were not very welcome, and whose people mingledlittle with the inhabitants of other lands. How the Chinese learned tomake silk we do not know; but there are in existence old records showingthat as far back as the year 2700 B. C. , these ingenious people weremaking fabrics spun from the filament taken from the cocoons of thesilkworm. There is an ancient story that the Empress See-ling-sheehatched and raised silkworms in her garden, afterward winding the silkenthread from the cocoons and weaving a delicate gauzy tissue from thefibres. Who taught her to do it no one can tell. Some persons think theChinese stole the art from India; certain it was that the inhabitants ofPersia, Tyre, and other eastern countries got silk thread from somewhereat a very early date and used it. In fact it was because the Greeks andRomans called the land beyond the Ganges 'Seres' that later the namesericulture became the term applied to silk-raising. "

The priest paused and gently stroked Hector's head. 

"There are many ancient references to the use of silk, " he went on. "Weread how Alexander the Great brought home from Persia wonderful silkfabrics when he and Aristotle went there to collect curiosities. He eventells how the silkworms produced this material which, by the way, hecalls bombykia; but nowhere does he tell in what place the industry hadits origin. However, he at least knew more about it than did mostpeople, for the common opinion was that the tissue was made from wool, or the fibre of trees, some persons even thinking it came from the bark. Another notion was that silk was woven from thread spun by the spider;still others argued that the cocoanut was its source. "

"How stupid of them!" ejaculated Marie. 

"Ah, it was not really so strange after all, my dear, " replied thepriest. "Suppose you were seeing silk for the first time. Where shouldyou think it came from?"

"I don't know. "

"Precisely. And that is just the way the rest of the world felt at thattime, " continued Père Benedict. "Nobody knew, and in consequenceeverybody made the best guess he could. Until the time of Justiniansilk-making was confined wholly to China, being in fact little knownanywhere in Europe before the reign of Emperor Augustus. What littlesilk there was cost so much that no one dreamed of wearing it. At last, however, some of the women of the royal houses of Rome ventured to useit for robes of state; and then the very rich men gradually followedtheir example and began to use it a little, for it was a cool, lightmaterial to wear in hot weather. Weavers had not learned at that time tomake the rich silks such as we have to-day; nor were the heavy kindsconsidered so beautiful as were the thinner varieties. But in time itbecame the common opinion that such fragile textiles were no materialfor men to wear; the Emperor feared the custom would make them vain andfoppish. Accordingly a law was passed forbidding male citizens to usesilk apparel. "

Pierre laughed. 

"But the Romans were no longer content with their coarse woolen robes, "went on Monsieur le Curé. "They had seen silk and they wanted it. Theywere a luxury loving people who eagerly caught up every form of elegancethat came in their way. Many of the rich had enjoyed the splendor andcomfort of silken garments and they were not to be deterred frompossessing them. Persian traders who possibly got their silk thread fromChina, and who held the monopoly of the woven fabrics, began sendingtheir goods to Rome, charging for them most outrageous prices. Then camethe Persian invasion, and the program was reversed; for Rome turned onthe Orientals, levying such a high tax on the manufacture of silk thatthe industry of the Persians was greatly injured. And all this time thatthe Romans were wearing silk and fighting about it they were stillunable to find out where the silk fibre came from. "

Père Benedict broke into a hearty laugh. 

"Did they ever find out?" inquired Marie whose eyes had scarcely leftthe face of the priest. 

"Of course they did, silly!" was Pierre's scornful response. 

"Gently, son, to your little sister, " said Monsieur le Curé. 

Pierre flushed. 

"They did find out, Marie, " continued Père Benedict kindly. "And it wasin a strange way, too. "

"Tell us!" exclaimed both the boy and girl simultaneously. 

"It chanced that there were two monks who were sent on a mission toIndia, and who ventured within the borders of China. While there theysaw the Chinese raising silkworms, and returning to Rome they relatedtheir story to the Emperor Justinian. "

"I think it was mean of them!" announced Marie with spirit. 

"I'm afraid it was, my child, " agreed Father Benedict. "Yet after allwas it quite fair for the Chinese to keep to themselves a thing which itwas for the world's good to know? Was not such a course both narrow andselfish?"

"Perhaps it was. "

"Well, at any rate, the monks were sent back to China with orders toprocure some of the silkworm's eggs. Now this was not an easy task, because no one was allowed to carry such treasures out of China. Had atraveler been discovered doing so he would certainly have been killed. Hence the problem was how to accomplish the feat. "

Marie and Pierre edged closer. 

"The story goes that the wily monks had some hollow staffs made, andthat inside these they stowed away the precious eggs, departing out ofChina in the guise of pilgrims. On their arrival in Rome the eggs werehatched and the stolen silkworms became the ancestors of all thesilkworms in Europe--perhaps the great-great-great-great-grandparents ofthe very ones you are going to raise next week. "

The boy and girl laughed merrily. 

"The rest of the story is that Emperor Justinian had mulberry treesplanted throughout the Roman Empire and brought to Rome weavers fromTyre and Berytus. These workmen trained other weavers, and in themeantime more and more eggs were hatched. All Europe seized upon theindustry. Mulberry trees were planted in Greece and in other countrieswhere the climate was sufficiently warm to make them grow. From Greecethe trade spread at a later date to Venice, at that time one of theforemost patrons of the arts. But all the silks made up to this periodwere very plain, because it was not until long afterward thatmanufacturers learned how to make velvets, satins, and brocades. Thencame a revolution in China, and for the next six hundred years Rome andGreece had the principal supply of silkworms and the monopoly of theindustry. Was it not fortunate now, Marie, that the Romans had stolenthe secret of making silk?" Père Benedict pinched her cheek playfully. "Had they not done so the art might, perhaps, have been lost, as wereso many other of the early arts. Numberless other conquests and wars invarious countries followed. I won't stop to tell you about them; but oneof the good results evolving out of the turmoil was that silk-makingspread to Sicily, Italy, and Spain. "

[Illustration: "IT IS LIKE A FAIRY STORY"]

"And France--was she left out, Father?" asked Pierre anxiously. 

"Have no fears for your native land, my son. France came into hersilk-making heritage about the time of Francis I. England followed herexample more slowly because, you know, our English brothers are a littlemore conservative than we are. All in good time, however, England madesilks and very beautiful ones, too, in which her kings and queens wereresplendent on state occasions. "

"It is like a fairy story, Father, " murmured Marie. 

"Then you are not tired?"

"Tired!"

The priest smiled. 

"At the beginning of the sixteenth century Bologna had the finestthrowing mills for the twisting and spinning of thread then known. ButChina with its peculiarly fertile soil still continued to be the landbest adapted for raising raw silk, although several other countriessurpassed it in the manufacture of fabrics. In Italy silk-making likeglass-making was held to be one of the most honorable of occupations;and silk-makers intermarried with the nobility, being accorded equalityof rank with the best born families. "

Père Benedict paused for breath; then gave an odd little chuckle. 

"I could tell you many an amusing tale of the early uses of silk, " hesaid. "Picture, for example, Henry V celebrating his victory atAgincourt by putting purple silk sails on his ships! And think of QueenElizabeth receiving as a gift a pair of knitted silk stockings which, bythe way, so spoiled her for wearing woolen ones that she disliked everto wear them again. Silken hose were a rarity in those days, even forqueens. Now of course as people saw more and more uses to which silkcould be put they came to want it; and the monarchs of all countries, realizing that silk-making would bring money into their coffers, urgedtheir subjects to take up sericulture. Henry IV of France did much tomake it popular among the French peasants, offering rewards to those whowould grow mulberry trees. England was found to have too cold a climatefor silk cultivation; so James I, who was king at that time, tried tohave the industry transplanted to the new colony of Virginia. This plandid not succeed, however, as the American planters found the growing ofpotatoes and tobacco far more profitable. In 1732 another attempt wasmade in the American states of Georgia and South Carolina and was againabandoned, because although America could raise both mulberry trees andsilkworms she lacked the supply of cheap coolie labor in which theOrient abounded. Now the producing of raw silk is left to China, Bengal, the Coromandel coast, India, France, Italy, and Turkey. Bengal proves anideal silk-raising country, for because of the climate there are yearlythree crops of cocoons--one in March, one in July, and one in November. Some of the other countries have two crops; others only one. "

"And France?" put in Pierre. 

"Ah, Pierre, there should be no need for me to tell you, a French boy, of your own land. The growing of our silk, as you know, is done in oursouthern provinces; while its manufacture takes place in our greatnorthern cities. Marseilles is the big market for raw silk, and Lyonsthe centre for the manufactured fabric. Meanwhile England has come toexcel in silk manufacture and she now excludes our French made goodswhenever she can that her people may patronize their own makers, who gettheir silk from the English colonies. And it is in this great andwonderful story of silk-making that you and Marie are now to have ashare, " concluded Father Benedict. "May you and your good mother besuccessful in a work that has brought to our beloved France much of herprosperity. "

There was a moment of silence. 

Then Madame Bretton came to the door. 

"Supper is ready, Father, and I beg you come in quickly--for while youhave been talking I have made you a tea cake!"

The venerable priest smiled with pleasure, and with a child clinging toeach of his hands he passed into the tiny cottage. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV

A SUPPER PARTY

The interior of the Bretton home was extremely simple; and simple, too, was the supper laid out upon the sand-scoured table. In war time eventhe more well-to-do families were living on the plainest of rations, that all the food which could possibly be spared should be sent to themen on the fighting lines. There was no sugar, little salt, a scantquantity of flour, and no meat to be had in the village. Still no onecomplained. Was not each serving his country by denying himself thosethings which, after all, could easily be done without? Healthy boys andgirls were as well off--nay, better--without cakes and candies, thegrown-ups said; and even the children themselves had come to admit this. 

Therefore the little group ate without comment their frugal meal, thankful that their food was as plenty as it was. The kind old priest, like his people, was accustomed to scanty fare, and would have been thefirst to reprimand his parishioners had any of them offered him anythingelse. Simple, however, as was the supper it was well-cooked andsatisfying; and after the chairs had been pushed back, and Marie and hermother had washed the few dishes, a candle was lighted and the Brettons, together with their guest, drew their seats into the circle of itsradiance. 

"I wish, Father, you would tell us how they make velvet, " venturedMarie, who delighted in the Curé's stories. "That, too, is made fromsilk, isn't it?"

"Velvet!" ejaculated the priest. "What a frivolous little damsel youare! Are you planning already how you will one day dress yourself in theclothes of a princess, my dear?"

Mischievously he pinched her cheek. 

Marie laughed. 

"No, indeed, Father. It was only that on Sunday when I saw the hangingsabout the high altar it came to me of a sudden to wonder how the velvetwas made. "

"You would much better have been thinking of your prayers, naughty one, "replied Père Benedict, touching her hair lightly with his long, slenderfingers. "However, in order that you may not a second time fill yourmind with such questions I will tell you what I can about velvetmaking. "

With a sigh of pleasure Marie settled back onto the tiny stool at thepriest's feet. 

They all loved to listen to the Father's tales. 

"He is better than any story-book!" Pierre often declared. 

"The first velvet we know anything about, " began the Curé, "was probablybrought from India, where it must have been woven on hand-looms. Whenthe Greeks and Romans invaded the East, among other spoils they broughtback with them great webs of crimson velvet, with which they immediatelybegan to decorate their palaces. They had no idea how it was made, andof course did not give it the name it now bears. Instead they called it_Villosus_, meaning _shaggy hair_. It is from this quaint old term thatour modern word velvet is derived. "

The children smiled. 

"It was not strange they should have chosen that name, for you mustremember they had never seen woven material with a fur-like pile, ornap, such as velvet has; and it must have puzzled them not a little. Soyou see it is due to these conquests of the Orient that velvet found itsway into the world. As time went on the supply of velvet increased. People in other places than India learned to make it. By the fourteenthcentury it was extensively used for hangings in the churches of Franceand Italy, and was also much seen at court. Robes of blue velvetmarvelously embroidered in gold, which evidently had been worn by churchdignitaries, have been found in an old French church, and are carefullypreserved as curiosities, since all the velvet of that period was eitherblack or of a crimson color. Now as lace-making was one of the arts ofthe time, and as much wonderful hand-made lace was used on vestments andaltar-cloths, you can readily understand how velvet was a rare means ofshowing it off, and became a favorite material for church use. "

He paused thoughtfully. 

"And not only did it rise in favor in the churches, but also kings, queens, and noblemen purchased all of it they could afford, to adornthemselves. It was far more expensive than silk, which at that earlydate was very costly. In fact it is only since present day manufacturehas mastered the art of making velvet less expensively that its pricehas lessened. Although some of the rare patterns and some of thesilkiest qualities are still made on hand-looms, the greater part of itis now made by machinery. The coronation robes for the King and Queen ofEngland, for example, are always made on hand-looms. "

"Is velvet hard to make, Father?" inquired Pierre. 

"Yes. Good velvet weavers are few. You see when our king Louis XIV ofFrance drove the Huguenots, who were famous silk and velvet weavers, out of the country, they took with them the trades of silk and velvetmaking. Some carried the art to England; some to Germany. The Germantowns of Elberfeld and Krefeld now make a large part of the velvet usedby the world--or did before the war. Krefeld alone has one hundred andtwenty velvet factories, besides many others devoted to dyeing the silkfrom which the velvet is made. The German Government gives to those whowill follow the industry free instruction in the chemistry of dyes, indesigning, and in other branches furthering the manufacture. As aconsequence the making of velvet has increased there until now manyvarieties formerly only obtainable in other countries are now woven inGermany. "

"But some of our own French cities make velvet, too, Father, " protestedMarie. 

"Ah, surely, dear child! The velvet from Lyons has long been famous. Lyons and Genoa, many persons say, make the most beautiful velvets thereare to be had. Some are of exquisite design, having great flowers, scrolls, or garlands brocaded upon them; others are of solid color--arare and rich shade--and are made from the purest of silk, which givesto them a sheen wondrous to see. Such velvets are, of course, verycostly, and only the rich can afford them; but as a product they are amagnificent achievement. You see velvet-making has now become awell-perfected art. Time has eliminated ancient methods, and betteredmachinery so that effects never before dreamed of can now be obtained. There is, for example, the soft panne velvet made by pressing the goodsafter it has been woven until it presents a satiny finish, then there iswhat is known as mirror velvet, a product woven from more than one shadeof silk, and which in a strong light has a changeable quality. "

"It is wonderful, isn't it?" murmured Madame Bretton, who was leaningforward and listening as intently as were her boy and girl. 

"Yes; all that man thinks out with his brain and perfects with his handsis wonderful, " agreed the priest. "It is a test of ingenuity andpatience, and as such should be respected. Moreover, velvet is a usefulproduct. The best silk varieties are very durable. They ravel little, and can be steamed almost to their original freshness when they becomeworn. Of course cheap velvets and plushes--which are merely velvets witha longer nap--are another matter. There is much cotton in them, andconsequently they catch the dirt, and are soon defaced. More and morethey are passing out of use as coverings for furniture, or for seats incars and halls. The material cannot be cleaned, and as a collector ofdust is most unhygienic. It is well it should give place to somethingthat is not such a fosterer of germs. "

"Won't you tell us how they make the fur on the velvet, Father?" beggedMarie, who was fearing every moment that the good priest would insist onstarting homeward. 

The Curé laughed. 

"You'll have me here until midnight, little one, " said he. "Should Itell you just how velvet is made it would take me hours; nor, in fact, am I sure I know every step of the process. I do know, however, that thesoft nap is made by drawing the threads of the silk warp over an extrawire which leaves millions of tiny loops standing upright, and packedvery close together all over it. In order that the velvet may be smooth, these loops must be perfectly even and very near together. The closerthey are, the more rich and beautiful will be the velvet. It is whenthese loops are cut that we get the silky sheen of the goods. If theyare not cut we have instead the material known as uncut velvet, largelyused for upholstery purposes. Yet another variety called raised velvetis made by having loops of different lengths so arranged as to form apattern. Sometimes, too, we see figures of velvet woven into backgroundsof satin. I am sure I need not tell you the name for that sort ofgoods. "

"Brocade!" Marie cried. 

"Quite right!" nodded the priest. 

"And velveteen, like my trousers, Father--what about that?" questionedPierre. 

"Velveteen? Velveteen, my boy, was first made in England, and is a lessexpensive material, made largely of cotton. "

Pierre looked disappointed. 

"Nay, nay, son, " exclaimed the kindly priest, noticing his face, "do notscowl at your clothing. Velveteen is a warm and durable kind of cloth, and is most useful. Only a prince would be raising silkworms arrayed ina costume of real velvet; and even then, were he to do it, he would bean extravagant fellow. "

"Is velvet made in America?" Madame Bretton asked. 

"America makes almost no velvet cloth, but much velvet ribbon, some ofwhich is very fine. The American mills also turn out a great deal ofcheaper, cotton-backed velvet ribbon. The best quality of their silkvelvet variety is made on looms the exact width of the goods, and has aselvage and back of satin. "

"Can people make----" began Pierre. 

But the priest had sprung resolutely to his feet, and was standing withhis fingers pressed to his ears. 

"No more! No more!" he cried. "Not another question will I answer. See, it is already past your bedtime. Besides, I myself must be getting home. Would you keep me here forever? Run fetch my hat and stick--off withyou!"

They flew to do his bidding. 

Then with a good-night kiss on the brow of each child, and a wave of hishand to their mother, he was gone. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

THE SILKWORMS

The next few weeks were such busy and exciting ones for the Brettonfamily that not only did Marie and Pierre find no time for play butMadame Bretton herself could scarcely snatch the necessary moments tocook the meals. Josef, the old servant who had always helped MonsieurBretton about the silk-house, and who had been too feeble to go to thewar, started low fires in the building where the eggs were to be hatchedand kept the great rooms at an even temperature in readiness for theircoming occupants. The eggs when exposed to the air were so small itseemed incredible that out of them could come the hungry littlecaterpillars who would spin that delicate silken filament. 

"They are about the size of mustard seed, aren't they, Mother?" remarkedMarie. 

"Just about, and they also are not unlike mustard in color, " replied hermother, "although they will not remain so--at least we hope not. "

"Why?"

"Because after three or four days they should turn to a light slatecolor if they are the sort of eggs we want. Those that remain yellow arethe unfertilized ones and will be of no use to us; we must discardthem. "

"And do the eggs always remain slate color until hatched?" questionedPierre. 

"No, they next turn to a dull, brownish slate tint and then thecaterpillar comes out. The changes may take place more rapidly than thisand the entire process require but a day or two. It all depends on thetemperature and the light. Josef knows by long experience just what todo to hurry things along. "

As Marie and Pierre glanced at the immaculate white shelves thatawaited the newcomers, and realized that for the first time the actualcare of the work they had so many times idly watched was upon theiryoung shoulders, it seemed like a dream. 

"Now there are many pitfalls which we must be careful to avoid, "announced Josef. "In the first place we must beware of rats, mice, spiders, ants--even chickens. All of these creatures can work havocamong the caterpillars. Probably you will not need to worry about themvery much; certainly not the rats, mice or chickens. Hens and chickenscannot get in here if you are watchful and close the doors. As for therats and mice, your father has pretty thoroughly exterminated them. Spiders and ants will find little encouragement in a clean place likethis, but we must be on the lookout for them, because one never knowswhen they will creep into a building. The greatest danger, aside fromsome epidemic spreading and destroying your crop, lies in feeding yoursilkworms wrongly. Remember, they must have no wet leaves if we wantthem to live. You know that already, I guess, or you ought to, for youcertainly have gathered enough food for them. Moist leaves will makesilkworms ill sooner than almost anything else. So never get leaves thatare wet with dew or those that have been rained on. When it looks as ifa storm was coming pick a sufficient number of leaves in advance andkeep them fresh and cool in the cellar. "

"The picking does not trouble us so much as the feeding, Josef. We havenever done that. How many times must we feed the worms?"

"At the beginning three times a day; and never forget that the youngworms must have the youngest and most tender leaves. Later they willneed the tougher ones, with more solid food elements in them, but not atfirst. "

"They are pretty fussy, aren't they, Josef?" laughed Marie. "Lots moreparticular about their food than we are. Mother makes us eat what is setbefore us, and never allows us to argue as to whether we like it or not;sometimes it isn't what we'd rather have, either. "

"But you manage to live and grow fat on it just the same, " grinned theold servant. "Now your silkworms wouldn't. They'd die, and that would bethe end of them. Of course some varieties are more robust than others;but they all have to have the same care. "

"I didn't know there was more than one kind of silkworm!" exclaimedMarie in surprise. 

"Of course there are, " Pierre retorted. "Even I knew that. There arelots of kinds, and some make much better silk than others. "

"Some give more silk, too, " Josef put in. "Their cocoons are muchlarger. The big white worm such as we raise here is one of the mostprofitable. It has four moultings. "

"You mean it changes its skin four times?" Marie said. 

"Just that. It's a queer life it has, isn't it?" mused the man. "Firstthere is the tiny egg; then comes the caterpillar with all its moultingsand its ravenous appetite--then follows the spinning of the cocoons; andthe long sleep of the chrysalis, or aurelia, as the slumberer inside thecocoon is sometimes called. And last of all is the moth that comes outof the cocoon--when we will let it--and lays hundreds of eggs for futurecrops of silkworms. What a short, hard-working life it is!"

"They are funny creatures anyway, " observed Pierre thoughtfully. "Theydon't seem to want to do any of the things other animals do. Silkwormsnever crawl about as most caterpillars would. Shouldn't you think thatafter they were hatched they would like to see where they were and wouldgo crawling all round the room?"

"You would think so, " replied Josef. "But they don't. They seem to haveno wish to move. Perhaps they realize that all their strength must besaved for eating and spinning. Now and then, of course, if they do notfind food near at hand when they are first hatched they will bestirthemselves until they reach it; they move more at this stage than at anyother; and yet they would not move then if they were not hungry. Theirchief aim in life seems to be to eat. They are no travelers, that'ssure. Even when they emerge from the chrysalis into the moth they usetheir wings very little, only fluttering a short distance when they aremating. "

"But suppose, Josef, that one wants to get them somewhere else and theywon't go, " speculated Marie. 

"Oh, it is easy enough to move them. That can be done any time by meansof a good tempting mulberry leaf; they will cling to it tight as a leachand you can cart them round wherever you wish. "

"When do you suppose our silkworms will first change their skins, Josef?" asked Pierre. 

"Moult?"

"Yes. I forgot the word for it. "

"That all depends on the temperature of the room and on how fast theydevelop. Usually with the degree of heat we keep here the first moultingtakes place within eight days. You see your silkworms are only about aquarter of an inch long at first, and as they increase in size to aboutthree inches their skin is not elastic enough to accommodate their rapidgrowth. It simply won't hold them. Suppose you or Marie grew twelvetimes your natural size in a few short weeks?"

"I'd pity Mother, letting out our clothes!" chuckled Marie. 

"They couldn't be let out; the material wouldn't be there, " repliedJosef. "And it would be the same way with your skin. It wouldn'tstretch. You'd have to have a new one. That's what the silkwormdoes--only it does it several times over. No skin made can cover ananimal that is a quarter of an inch long one week and three-quarters ofan inch long the next, and so on growing in leaps and bounds until itgets up to three inches and sometimes more. Think of growing at thatrate! And the little gourmands are not eating all the time, either, because after they are hatched it is three days before they eat much. They act stupid, and as if they didn't feel well. But later they make upfor their loss of appetite--don't you fret. "

Josef smiled grimly. 

"By the fourth day they are eating at a furious rate, " he went on, "andthey keep right on stuffing themselves for five days. When they areabout eight days old they have expanded until their skin is so tightthat it makes them uncomfortable. It seems to pinch and make them ill. At any rate they act as if they felt pretty poorly and did not want toeat much more. Their next move is to cast their skins. This takes aboutthree or four minutes and is a strenuous business while it lasts; everybit of the old skin goes--even that from the head, jaws, and feet. Theordeal leaves them weak and exhausted, but they soon cheer up, and areeating again furiously as ever. You can't stop them from eating verylong. "

"How does the new skin look?" inquired Marie. "Just like the other?"

"Why do you ask such foolish questions, Marie?" grumbled Josef. "Haven'tyou seen your father's silkworms hundreds of times?"

"I'm ashamed to say I never noticed them very much, Josef, " returned thegirl. "They seemed such horrid little things that I never was interestedin them. "

"I don't know much about them either, " put in Pierre. "I never expectedto be raising them myself. If I had I should have examined them morecarefully and asked Father lots of questions. It was such a botheralways to be gathering mulberry leaves for them that I came to dislikethe thought of a silkworm, " confessed the boy. "Ever so many times I hadto pick leaves when I wanted to go and play. But now, you see, it isdifferent, because they are our own silkworms and of course we want tolearn all we can about them. I wish, Josef, you'd please tell us abouttheir new skins. "

Josef glanced up good-naturedly. 

"If you really want to know of course I'll tell you, " he answered. "Thenew skin looks just about like the old one, except that it is all looseand wrinkled. You know how you look when you are wearing a new suit thatyour mother has bought for you to grow to, Pierre. Well, that's the waythe silkworm's suit looks on him. It is several sizes too big at first. But by the end of five days he has filled it all out until he is asuncomfortable in it as he was in his old one, and is ready foranother. "

"And he peels this one off just the same way?"

"Just the same--hat, coat, and gloves. This, as I have said, is not atall easy, for you must remember that his skin fits very closely allabout his jaws as well as over all his sixteen legs. These are arrangedin pairs so when he shifts his skin it is equal to peeling off eightpairs of stockings. How would you like that?"

The boy and girl shook their heads. 

"These legs are very nicely planned, too, " went on Josef. "There are sixin front--three pairs--neatly covered with a thick, shelly coating;these fit under the first three rings of the silkworm's body and can beused as hands when he is spinning. Then come the other ten legs, orholders, which have tiny hooks on them and are the climbing legs. "

"But I thought the silkworm scarcely moved, " objected Marie. 

"Oh, it can move when it wants to. When it gets ready to spin its cocoonit climbs until it finds a place that suits it. In addition to allthese legs it has wonderfully strong jaws. I suppose the good Lordbestowed these upon the silkworm because most of its work in life isdone with its jaws--both its eating and spinning. In proportion to itssize the silkworm has stronger jaws than any other of the smallcreatures. Underneath these jaws are two very tiny apertures set closetogether through which the caterpillar draws and unites into one the twostrands of silk. This is sometimes called the spinaret. The silksubstance, which is really a yellow gum, passes through the two longglands that run along each side of the silkworm and are fashioned into asingle thread in the spinaret. "

"And you say the silkworm goes through the process of changing its skinfour times, Josef?"

"Yes, four times. You can always tell when it is going to moult, becauseit raises its head and remains still in that position as if asleep. Whenit has grown to the full size of its fourth skin it is ready to spin itscocoon. This is all very simple when you understand it; and yet strangeand wonderful, too. You'll follow the process more easily when your ownsilkworms begin to grow and you can watch them go through all thesedifferent stages. "

"I do hope our silkworms will hatch and develop safely, " remarked Pierreanxiously. 

"You needn't fear, I guess, " was the comforting reply. "I have helpedyour father hatch out thousands of eggs, and we seldom have had a bit oftrouble. I shouldn't worry. By to-morrow or the next day I plan we shallhave as fine a crop of silkworms as one could wish to see. "

"I hope so--for our sakes and for Father's, " said Marie softly. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI

BUSY DAYS

The Brettons' silkworms hatched as successfully as Josef had foretoldthey would, and soon Madame Bretton and her boy and girl had all theywished to do. Not that the work was taxing at first. For a while it wasa simple matter to gather the fresh young mulberry leaves and keep thejuvenile caterpillars amply supplied with food. Even the litter of stemsand waste material that had to be cleared away with promptness did notcause much trouble, for most of it fell through the perforations in thetin shelves and could be readily removed. Now and then, of course, someunwary baby silkworm fell through too along with this waste matter andhad to be rescued; for the most part, however, the task was simpleenough. 

"I do not see that it is hard work to raise silkworms, " announced Pierreat the end of the first few days. "Why, a six-year-old child could feedthem! It is the easiest thing imaginable. "

Josef laughed. 

"Just you wait, Pierre Bretton!" was his retort. "Some day in the nearfuture I'll remind you of those words. The first three weeks are notarduous, I'll agree. The next twelve or fourteen days are harder, though; there are more things to think of and more food to gather. Andas for the last part of the time--it demands all the care and labor thatyou will wish to expend. "

But Pierre only shrugged his shoulders sceptically. 

In the meantime the silkworms continued to thrive. The weather was warmand sunny and no irregular conditions broke in upon the work until oneafternoon Josef announced in a warning tone:

"There'll be rain to-morrow. You better gather double your supply ofmulberry leaves; for if you wait until morning the trees will bedripping wet, so we cannot find food for our caterpillars. "

It was a timely forecast, for the old servant's prediction proved a trueone, and thanks to his thoughtfulness, the crop of the youthfulsericulturists escaped famine. After that the silk-raisers kept theireyes out for the possibility of showers or stormy weather. Never for anhour did they run out of food to supply the busy little creatures thatwere to earn for the Bretton family a livelihood. Tirelessly they fedthe caterpillars; tirelessly cleared away the litter that it might notferment and cause malady, or bury the worms beneath its weight andrender them hot and torpid. For it was by keeping them vigorous andalert, with plenty of fresh food and fresh air that they would developthe heartiest appetite, grow the fastest, and spin the largest cocoons. All these points were too important to be overlooked. Whenever thelitter accumulated too fast or failed to drop through the grating of theshelves the caterpillars were gently removed on a cluster of freshmulberry leaves to another spot, and the place made clean and tidy. 

Then came a day when the silkworms began to cease eating and insteadpaused idly, with heads upraised. 

"They are ready for their first moulting!" exclaimed Josef. "They wantto peel off their tight clothing. Watch and see if I am not right. "

And sure enough! The great transformation took place even as the oldservant had said it would. Off came the skins--cap, shoes, and all!

The boy and girl were delighted. 

After the poor, fatigued, wrinkled caterpillars had wriggled themselvesfree from their hampering garments they were sorry looking creaturesindeed! But with a little rest they roused themselves and were sooneating voraciously, just as if nothing had happened. Day by day theirappetites increased, and to keep pace with them they grew longer andplumper. 

Again they shed their skins, and again were back eating as ravenously asbefore. 

"The wrinkles surely do not have a chance to stay long in their coats, "remarked Pierre. "Pretty soon they will want still other larger coats, too. "

Full-sized leaves with a more solid fibre were now demanded by thematuring silkworms; but Josef cautioned the silk-raisers not to givetheir little charges old or tough leaves. 

"There is a big difference between full grown vegetation, and old passéstuff, " he explained. "You know how tired your jaws get chewing toughfood. Well, theirs do, too. Remember they chew day in and dayout--nights as well as other times. You've got to conserve theirstrength, for they will need every bit of it before they finish theirwork. I knew of some silkworms once that died from sheer exhaustionbecause they were given food that was too tough for them to masticate. It is not an uncommon happening. "

As the caterpillars continued to eat without cessation the odd littlesound of the cutting of crisp leaves pervaded the silk-house. It was nosuch easy task to keep them supplied with food now! Day after day it wasa race to pick the necessary quantity of leaves and remove theaccumulating litter. Every one in the house worked, and even a boy ortwo was hired to help in the gathering. 

"It is not so easy now, eh?" suggested Josef to Pierre. "Getting tired?"

"A little, " admitted the boy. "It keeps one so on the everlasting jump. Taking away the litter is stupid, tedious work; and then there is thedouble supply of leaves to last through the night!"

He sighed. 

"You're right. It is a hard job, " the old servant agreed kindly. "Buthave courage. When you get your first crop of fine cocoons you will sayit was worth it all, and you will forget that you ever were tired. "

"I hope so, " murmured Pierre wearily. "I get discouraged standing andhearing them gnaw those leaves. I know they are just making more workfor us. "

"You'd have far more cause to be disheartened if you didn't hear them, "chuckled Josef. "That would be something to mourn over. But youshouldn't complain at their good healthy appetites. "

Cheered by Josef's jests the work went on. 

The endless monotony of feeding and clearing up, feeding and clearing upcontinued. Sometimes it seemed as if nothing was being accomplished. Andyet when the young silk-growers compared the present size of theirsilkworms with that of the early hatched caterpillars the transformationseemed nothing short of a miracle. 

Then came a day when Pierre detected a change in the aspect of his crop. Gradually the worms had turned to a transparent green color and ceasingto eat were moving uneasily about. They seemed also to have shrunk to asmaller size. 

In consternation the lad fled to Josef. 

"Whatever is the matter with them?" he cried. "Are they ill? Has someepidemic come at this late day to sweep away all that we have done?"

The boy's face was pale with distress. 

"They're all right, " answered Josef reassuringly. "They are just readyto spin, that's all. I did not expect it quite so soon. We must get thearches up without delay. "

Both Pierre and Marie clapped their hands. They knew well what was tohappen next for they had often seen their father arrange the littlearches of brush on which the silkworms were to climb and spin theircocoons. The placing of these rustic half-hoops was a delicate matter, since it was necessary to arrange them so that plenty of air mightcirculate through the space they enclosed; otherwise the worms wouldrefuse to spin. Twigs or slender pieces of brush were set along theshelves in such a way that when bent the shelf above held them in placeand made of them a series of miniature bridges, or arches. For certainvarieties of caterpillars Pierre gathered branches of oak shoots withdried leaves clinging to them because Josef explained that this type ofsilkworm preferred that sort of twig on which to fashion its cocoon;other brush was stripped of leaves. And throughout the following daysthe greatest care had to be taken that nothing should interrupt thespinning. 

The things most to be dreaded were sudden noises; thunder-storms; andabove all a drop in temperature, since chilly surroundings congealedthe fluid silk in the ducts at each side of the silkworm, rendering ittoo thick for the creature to spin into fibre. 

The noise and the temperature could to an extent be controlled. But thethunder-storms! Those were another matter. 

Anxiously the Bretton family studied every passing cloud. 

"If a severe storm should wreck our crop now--at the very end--it wouldbe cruel!" declared Pierre. "No matter how careful we are we cannotprevent some great black thunder-head from rolling over the mountainsand down through the valley. "

"It is useless to worry, dear, " answered his mother. "If such a stormcomes it will be through no fault of ours. "

"It would raise havoc in our harvest just the same, " cut in Josef. "Thevibrations of thunder sound worse among the metal shelves. They catchthe jar, and seem to hold and echo it. Your father told me about a mannear Tours who had lightning wires along his shelves to protect hissilkworms from electric currents. The wires carried off the worst of thevibration. "

"I wish we could afford to equip our silk-house that way, " said Marie. 

"Just wait until we get rich. Maybe some day we can, " answered Pierregaily. 

Fortunately for the Brettons' silkworms, however, no electrical stormcame. 

The caterpillars climbed serenely into the brush arches above theirheads, selected spots that pleased their fancy, and began constructingtheir cocoons. First came the loose, web-like oval within which thecocoon itself was to be made. This was the work of the first day and itsconstruction was of what is known as floss. Then followed the yellow, compact cocoon requiring three or four days for its spinning. Occasionally two worms would insist upon spinning together, crossing andrecrossing their threads; these double cocoons always had to be sortedout from the others, however, as the silk could not be wound off themeasily. 

The spinning was an interesting sight. 

The silkworms poised themselves on the lower extremity of their bodiesand using their front legs to guide the thread, sent it hither andthither from their mouths in wavy, irregular motion until the littleegg-shaped ball was finished. The two fibres from the right and leftside of the worm were so perfectly united in the spinaret that it wasimpossible to detect more than one thread. Patiently the tiny spinnerstoiled, and those worms that failed to spin were put into a room bythemselves where the temperature was graded to a higher degree of heatthat the warmer atmosphere might stimulate them to work. 

When at last the cocoons were done the Brettons surveyed them withsatisfaction. 

The weeks had been busy, fatiguing ones with hastily snatched meals, andinterrupted slumbers. 

"One could not keep on like this for a long stretch without more help, "declared Madame Bretton. "I am glad the caterpillars have their housesmade!"

"They are better houses than you think, too, " added Josef. "For eachsilkworm has coated the inside of his little home with a gum-likesubstance that makes it waterproof. He has no intention of lying down tosleep in a leaky cottage where the rain may drip through. "

"But there is no rain in here, " objected Marie. 

"Of course not. But the silkworm does not know that. He builds his housejust as he would if it was out-of-doors where the good Lord intended itshould be. Your caterpillar hasn't the wit to realize that conditionshave changed with the years, and that he now lives out his days beneatha roof that does away with the need of water-proofing. It is because thecocoons are thus sealed on the inside that the water does not penetratethem when they are floated. You'll notice that if you ever have a chanceto see the silk reeled off. It protects the chrysalis until it piercesits way through its silken house and comes out a moth. But of course weshall not let ours do that. "

"Why not?" inquired Marie. 

"Why not? Because after you have worked so hard to get your silk you donot want it broken into short bits and spoiled, do you? If we were tolet the moths mature and make holes in the cocoons it would ruin all oursilk. No. We must let only a few moths come out and lay their eggs thatwe may have them to hatch for our next crop of silkworms. We'll selectsome of the finest cocoons for the purpose--those that are largest andmost perfect. Some must be male and some must be female moths. "

"But how can we tell? Aren't they all shut up inside the cocoons?"gasped Pierre. 

"Oh, it is quite easy, " answered Josef. "The female silkworm spins ahouse which, like an egg, is a little sharper at one end than at theother. We'll choose about the same number of each gender. There is aknack in selecting good cocoons for breeding, and you've got to knowlots of things about them. And after we have chosen them there will bethe rest of the cocoons to sort. That will require care, too. We cannotdo it as experts do, but still we can group them roughly into lots ofvarious kinds. We can get at it to-morrow. I will give you your firstlesson. I fancy your mother knows more about it than the rest of us forshe has always helped your father do this part of the work. "

"It will be fun to learn!" cried Marie. "Won't it, Pierre?"

"I don't believe it will be very hard, " sniffed Pierre. "There can't bemuch choice in cocoons. Most of them look alike, except that some arebigger than others. "

Josef regarded the boy a moment and then laughed. 

"Don't be too cock-sure of that!" he retorted ironically. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII

THE SILK HARVEST

The Bretton family spent the next week collecting and sorting theircocoons into baskets, grouping together as well as they were able thosethat were to be kept for breeding; those that were soiled or imperfect;and those that were double. They also separated the cocoons that were ofdifferent colors, for among the lot were not only white ones but manythat were yellow, and even some of a greenish tint. This varied, Josefexplained, with the different species of silkworms. Before the silk wasreeled off the cocoons would, of course, go through another and morethorough classification under the hands of the experts at the filature, as the reeling factory was called. But even this first rough groupingwas a help to the buyers. 

In the meantime some of the caterpillars that worked more slowly werestill busy with their spinning, and could not be disturbed. Accordinglymuch care had to be taken in removing the cocoons that were finished. Those in the lower tiers of arches were first taken out, and afterwardthe ones higher up on the shelves. The sooner the cocoons could becollected, after their completion, Josef said, the better, for withinten days they depreciated from seven to eight per cent. , and if sold inbulk, brought a lower price. In consequence the Brettons, who were tosell their crop to a silk merchant who visited the town each year, promptly set about gathering their harvest as soon as possible. 

Many of the cocoons were really beautiful, being of a perfect ovaloutline and of pale golden color. 

Marie and Pierre were delighted. 

"It is worth all the endless trays of mulberry leaves, isn't it, Mother?" exclaimed Marie. "Why, even Father could raise no finer orlarger cocoons, I am sure. "

"We have done well, " her mother agreed. "But remember, we have had greatgood luck. No epidemic or disease came to blight the lives of ourcaterpillars; nor did annoyances of any sort interrupt their spinning. We did our part, certainly; but favorable conditions had much to do withour success. "

"I only hope we have kept the right sort of cocoons for breeding, " saidJosef. "That is all that is troubling me now. Upon our selection willdepend the quality of our next season's crop. There are so many thingsto think of in choosing cocoons for hatching. Not only must they be asperfect as we can get them, but they must have nicely rounded ends and afine, strong thread. I tried to search out those with the ring-like bandround the centre, for I have heard your father say that if we could getthose we would be sure of having vigorous silkworms, since onlycaterpillars of the most powerful constitution make their houses in thatway. "

"It seems to me we kept out a lot more than we shall need for breeding, Josef, " complained Marie. 

"We always have to put aside more than we actually require, Marie, because many will fail to hatch successfully and will be a loss, "explained Josef. "Usually growers plan to devote about a sixth of theircrop to this purpose. "

"A sixth! Why, that would cut down our sales dreadfully!" ejaculated thegirl. 

"Better sell less now and be assured of a plentiful supply of eggs nextyear, " was the dry answer. "Don't you think so?"

Therefore the cocoons for hatching were gathered into one place andafter the floss that clung to the outside of them had been removed sothat it should not entangle the moth when it came forth from its house, Madame Bretton took a needle and being extremely careful not to piercethe chrysalis inside by putting it through the centre of the cocoons shestrung them on strings from three to four feet long and hung them oversome wires stretched across the top of the room. 

"There!" she said. "Nothing can reach them now. They will be well up outof the way of both mice and chickens, and in a month or two should hatchout all right. "

The weather in the meantime had become very hot. The southern sun beatdown on Bellerivre, parching its hillsides, and tanning its people to adusky brown. But the peasants complained not of the high temperature, for was not this torrid sun that burned so fiercely the very factor theywere calculating upon to complete for them the final preparation oftheir cocoons for the market? This consisted in killing the chrysalis, or sleeping worm inside the cocoon, lest it come out and snap thedelicate threads that it had spun. In cooler countries the process wasaccomplished by putting baskets of cocoons covered with paper andwrapped in cloth into ovens about hot enough for the baking of bread. Here they were left an hour or so until all moisture had exuded fromthem, proving that the worm had been dried up. Sometimes a blast ofsteam-heat was the method used for the destruction of the chrysalis. Such methods required greatest care, however, lest in employing adegree of heat sufficient to exterminate the worm the silk also bedamaged. But in Bellerivre no such artificial means had to be resortedto. Instead the cocoons were spread out beneath the burning rays of thesun and left to bake, being wrapped each night in heavy black cloth thathad also absorbed the heat and would retain during the night the hightemperature acquired through the day. For three days this process wascontinued, the cocoons being spread in the sun from dawn until dusk, andthen bundled up inside the hot cloth throughout the night. 

On the fourth day Josef said:

"Now it is time that we investigated and found out whether the worms arereally dead. "

He thereupon took a few cocoons and cutting them open proceeded toexamine the chrysalis inside. It was motionless and dry. Again he lookedat it, this time touching it with the point of a needle. Still it didnot move. 

"It is quite dead, " he remarked. "And the others must be so too. Whatwonder, when they have been so steadily exposed to this broiling sun? Ishould be dead if I were to lie in it day after day without protection, and so would you. We can now safely gather the lot into baskets and putthem away until Monsieur Leclerq, the buyer, comes for them at the endof the week. "

So once again the cocoons were collected to await their purchaser, andthe silk-raisers sat down with sighs of content to anticipate thepayment of the money they had so faithfully earned, and speculate as towhat they should do with it. 

"I don't believe you are any more glad to rest than your silkworms are!"reflected Josef. "When you consider that each one of them spins betweenthree and four hundred yards of thread you can't blame it for wanting tosleep when its work is done. "

"Do they spin as much as that?" gasped Marie. 

"Indeed they do--some of them more. Certain of the finest varieties willeven turn out as many as six hundred and twenty-five yards. But that isa high figure. They usually average less. "

"It is all wonderful, isn't it?" replied Madame Bretton. "And to thinkthese tiny creatures are responsible for the silk the whole world uses!"

"I know it, " agreed Josef. "Of course there are other spinners in theuniverse, however. The spider, for example, is a most industriousspinner, and I have read that in the past scientists tried to see ifsome of the larger spiders could not be utilized for silk-making. Thevelvety pouch, or bag, was removed and by some skilful process thegreyish thread inside it was carded off. But the experiment wasunsuccessful, for the silk thus made was far less firm and strong thanthat which came from the silkworm. After this failure another set of mentried to make silk by using the filament of the pinna. "

"What is a pinna, Josef?" questioned Marie. 

"The pinna is a variety of shell-fish not unlike the mussel; it fastensitself to the rocks and from between its shells gives out threadssomething like those of the spider or silkworm. By means of them itspins a tough fibre by which it joins itself to any object to which itwishes to cling. "

"And did they succeed in making pinna silk, Josef?" demanded Marieeagerly. 

"They certainly did!" nodded Josef. "Along the Mediterranean wereseveral places where they manufactured pinna thread. They even spun somefine, silky fabrics from it. But they never could get enough of thefilament to make the industry practical, although in 1754 they did sendto Pope Benedict XIV some stockings made from pinna silk. They were spunfrom very fine thread, and were so closely woven and so hot that I doubtif he cared to wear them unless in cool weather. Since then the weavingof pinna silk has been abandoned, although now and then one sees bits ofit in some old fabric, or on exhibition somewhere. It is chieflyregarded as a curiosity. "

"What a lot you know, Josef!" murmured Marie, astonished. 

Josef laughed. 

"I just happened to see that in a book your father gave me, " he said. "It interested me because it told of something I wanted to learn about. I don't care for reading as a rule. Most books are about things I neverheard of and are no use to me. "

"But don't you like to learn about new things?" inquired Marie. 

"Why, no, I don't think I do. What good is it?" interrogated the oldservant. "I'm not ever going out of this valley. Why, I'm 'most seventyyears old already! It is well enough for you to learn things--you'reyoung. As for me, the learning I have has stood by me up to now, and Iguess it will do me the rest of my days. "

With a smile on his simple face the venerable man turned away. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII

PIERRE MAKES A FRIEND

The buyer who came to Bellerivre from the Gaspard silk mills was alively little Frenchman whom Pierre had often seen before. 

"So it is you, my young friend, who this year raises the cocoons!" criedthe merchant cordially. "Who would have thought it possible? Butyesterday you were a baby in your father's arms. And now----" the littleman shrugged his shoulders. "Eh bien, le bon chien chasse de race! N'estpas, Madame?"

Madame Bretton smiled. 

"The lad is but doing his best to fill his father's place, " she answeredquietly. 

"That is as it should be with all good French boys, too, " themerchant assented. "And have you ever visited our silk mills atPont-de-Saint-Michel? No? Ah, but you should do so. It is only an hour'sjourney, and if you are to raise silk you must learn all you can aboutit. If I should give you a letter to our foreman would not Madame, yourmother, be willing you should go?"

Pierre glanced up eagerly. 

His eyes sparkled. 

"Would you, Mother? It would not cost very much, would it?" He turnedapologetically to the silk buyer. "You see, " he explained, "in these wardays we must be very saving, for every franc that we can spare goes tomy father and my uncle, who are in the army. "

"I know, " sighed the agent. "Wherever I go it is the same. All the menare at the front. But the cost of the trip I suggested is very little, and I myself should be glad to----"

"No, Monsieur Leclerq, " interrupted Madame Bretton. "I know what youwould say, and I thank you; but we are well able to pay Pierre'sexpenses to Saint Michel, since you are so kind as to invite him. I amsure the excursion would more than repay us. It would not be like takingthe money for a mere pleasure tour. Pierre shall go. It will be anotherstep toward making a silk merchant of him. "

"I wish I could go, too, " whispered Marie. 

"You are not to be a silk merchant, chérie, " answered her mother gently. "We women are the stay-at-homes, who do all we can to help our menforward in their careers; that is our work. "

And so the next day Pierre, very happy and important, and with a largebox of luncheon under his arm, set out upon the train for thePont-de-Saint-Michel silk mills. To be going on such a long journey allalone was a novel undertaking for the lad, who seldom left his own greenvalley. It was almost as wonderful as if he were starting forMarseilles, or indeed Paris itself. The place where he was going didnot, however, possess the glamour of either of these great cities. Onthe contrary it was merely a sort of depot or centre to which all thecocoons bought up in the vicinity were sent to have the silk reeledfrom them; there were also at this plant some extensive throwing mills, but no weaving was done there. Instead the thrown silk was sold to thegreat weaving factories at Lyons, Tours, or other silk-making cities ofFrance; and the raw product was sent to Marseilles, from which market itwas either distributed to French mills or shipped to England or theUnited States for manufacture. 

The day was a beautiful one. Massive white clouds hung low over thedistant mountains; but the valley was flooded with golden sunshine thatillumined it like some vast search-light. The vineyards never lookedgreener, the hillsides more velvety and cool, or the river moresparkling. Now the train skirted the banks of the stream, now shot pastmeadows of fertile farming land; or of a sudden it crossed a noisymountain torrent and crept up the hillside until the vegetation becamelow and stunted, and the rocky peaks of the Pyrenees seemed but an arm'slength away. Then slowly down over a trestle of airily poisedbridge-work it descended to the valley again. Was ever a journey such amarvel? To the French boy who had seen little of the outside world itwas an Arabian Night's dream. 

All too soon Saint Michel was reached, and Pierre set out for the silkmills, where he presented the card that Monsieur Leclerq had given him. Then for a few minutes he waited in a small office where the jar ofmachinery and the whirr of wheels caused a monotonous and unceasingvibration. 

Presently a giant foreman with sleeves rolled to the elbow came hurryingout. 

He regarded Pierre with surprise. 

"They told me that one of our silk-growers wanted to see me, " falteredhe uncertainly. "There has doubtless been some mistake. You are but aboy. "

"I am nevertheless a silk-grower, " smiled Pierre modestly. "It isbecause the men of our household are in the trenches that I----"

Impulsively the foreman thrust out his hand. 

"I too have relatives in the battle line, " he said. "My brother andcousins are there, and I should be with them now were it not for an uglywound I got at the Marne. They will not take me back to fight, eventhough I have begged to go. And so here I am--restless and half angrythat I must remain boxed up at Saint Michel and make silk instead ofbeing where the firing is going on. Yet some must stay behind and carryon the country's industries. Perhaps I can still do my bit here. I havetried to be philosophical about it and work as hard as I can, for I feelthat those who cannot help in one way can, maybe, help in another. "

He glanced at the card Pierre had brought. 

"Bretton is your name?"

"Pierre Bretton. "

"Monsieur Leclerq says your shipment of cocoons was a good contributionto the prosperity of France. "

Pierre flushed. 

"I am glad if it seemed so. We must support ourselves--my mother, sister, and I--and not be a burden to the country while my father isaway. "

"That's the right spirit, " answered the foreman heartily. "And so youwant to see your silk reeled off--yours, or somebody's else? Well, youshall. I am busy myself and so cannot go with you; but Henri, one of ourboys, shall take you with him and tell you all you wish to know. Do notfear to ask questions if you do not understand, for Henri is well ableto answer them. He knows everything that anybody can about silkreeling. "

As he beckoned to a tall, slender boy who sat at a desk opposite theforeman smiled kindly down at Pierre. 

"Henri, " he continued when the employee approached, "I want you to showthis young silk-raising friend of ours, Monsieur Bretton, how we sortcocoons and reel them off. Tell him everything you can, for he is agrower and has the right to know. "

"Mais, oui, avec beaucoup de plaisir, " answered the boy. "I will do mybest. " He bowed to the foreman, who, after shaking Pierre by the hand, turned away. "Now Monsieur Bretton----"

"My name is Pierre. No one ever called me Monsieur Bretton before, and Ido not like it, " protested Pierre smiling. "I am but a boy likeyourself. Please call me by my first name--if you do not mind. "

Henri beamed on him. 

"I should like it much better, " he replied cordially. "And I am HenriSt. Amant. Now it is all understood, is it not? Shall we begin then ourjourney through the filature? We will go into the sorting rooms first, where the cocoons that are sent to us are classified. Most of them havealready been cured, or baked, for the majority of our customers do thatfor us. When they do not we have to expose the cocoons in our ownovens. "

"Don't most of your cocoons come to you sorted?" questioned Pierre. 

"Most of them are roughly classified, " nodded Henri. "But the gradingmust be much more finely done. Only experts can sort cocoonsthoroughly. "

[Illustration: HE LED THE WAY INTO A LONG ROOM]

As he spoke he led the way into a long room, where on every hand girlswere moving in and out among heaps of cocoons that were either piledhigh on tables or massed upon squares of canvas on the floor. The roomand everything in it was spotless. 

"We try to keep the cocoons from getting soiled, you see, " explainedHenri. 

"Is the sorting done by girls?" questioned Pierre, astonished. 

"Since the war, yes. We have had to train them to take the places ofthose who have gone to be soldiers. It is not, of course, heavy work, but it requires skill and judgment since the many varieties of cocoonsneed different treatment. Here, for example, are dupions, or doublecocoons, which as you doubtless already know have more floss on theoutside than do others, and must be well cleaned before any attempt atreeling can be made. Often they cannot be run off at all because the twocaterpillars that worked together to make the single cocoon haveintertwined the threads until they break all to bits when we try toseparate them. Here is another species of cocoon. " Henri pointed to apile on the next table. "These are of beautiful texture, smooth andsatiny. But they must be treated with tepid, not hot, water, as are agood proportion of the others, and the accumulation of gum mixed withthe filament must be soaked out with soap-suds. This will give you anidea how many things there are to think of in reeling. Some cocoons giveoff their silk too easily, and unless put into cool water will snarl;others fail to give off the thread at all and instead must be treatedwith hot water, which aids in loosening it. Another difficulty wesometimes encounter is that the reelers cannot catch the end of thethread to begin their work; this usually indicates that the water intowhich the cocoons have been put is too cool. On the other hand if thesilk ruffs up and comes off in snarls upon the brush, the matted massesindicate that the water is too hot. All this the reelers must learn byexperience, and they must learn it, too, without wasting our silk. Twogeneral laws underlie this feature of silk-reeling: hot water makes thesilk run faster, and cold water retards its progress. Your problem is tosee which treatment your cocoons require. "

"Of course those who sort the cocoons can tell nothing of that, "ventured Pierre. 

"Oh, no. The sorters simply put into one place those cocoons that are ofthe same kind. The way the cocoons behave in the water is the businessof the reeler. We have tanks or basins of a graduated temperature, andthe operators soon learn into which one to put a cocoon of a certaintype. "

"I did not dream one had to know so much just to reel off the silk, "murmured Pierre. "I had always supposed it would be an easy matter; butnow I see it isn't. "

Henri laughed. 

"But I have not told you half our troubles yet, " he answeredmischievously. "Thus far I have spoken only of the cocoons. In additionthere is the water to consider. That must be the right sort, too. Itmust be as pure as we can get it, both chemically and in color. And eventhen the high temperature necessary to bring the silk off the cocoonswill cause any sandy sediment there may be in it to rise to the surfaceand cut the filament as we reel it off. We have to be prepared for thatemergency as well as the others. And now to return to the sorting ofthe cocoons. Do you see that pile over there? Those are what we callperfect ones. The thread from them will go into the finest quality silksand satins, as the filament has neither spots nor flaws. "

"But those cocoons are very small, " objected Pierre. 

"Yes. The best cocoons are not always the largest, by any means. It isquality, not size, that counts. " Henri passed on. "Here now, " hecontinued as he paused before another lot, "are some more pointed at oneend than at the other. We know from bitter experience that they willreel badly, because the silk which runs smoothly at the beginning willprove to be weak in some places and break. We toss them aside and reelthem separately. These _cocalons_, as we call this other kind, are alsothrown out because they are hard to wind. "

"They are much larger, " observed Pierre. 

"You are right. Nevertheless they have no more silk on them. The reasonthey look bigger is because the worm spun them less compactly; unlessthey are put into cold water they will tangle and mat when reeled. "

"And that next lot?"

"_Soufflons_? They are the most imperfect cocoon made. The silk is soloosely spun that it cannot be wound at all, and is good only forfloss. "

Pierre shook his head despairingly. 

"I thought I knew quite a lot about cocoons, " he said. "But by the timeI go home I shall feel I don't know anything. Why, I never could learnto sort all those kinds if I kept trying for years. "

"Only those who have handled thousands of cocoons can, " returned hisguide consolingly. "I couldn't begin to do it. Here is a pile now! Theyhave a hole in the end and cannot be reeled because every time thethread comes to the perforation it is broken. Probably the moth wasallowed to escape and injured the filament. They must be used for floss, too, for they are good for nothing else. "

The boys wandered on down the room. 

"In this pile you will see what we call _good choquettes_, " resumedHenri. "I must tell you about them, for the species is peculiar. Theworm inside them died before finishing its work and stuck onto theinside of the cocoon. " He took one from the heap and shook it. "It doesnot rattle, you see. Nevertheless the filament on it is of excellentquality--not very strong, perhaps, but of fine texture. In contrast tothese good choquettes is this tableful of _bad choquettes_. Like theothers the silkworm died during his spinning, but this time he rottedaway inside, leaving the cocoon black and mottled. "

"Healthy worms make the best cocoons, of course, " Pierre rejoined. 

"Not at all, " contradicted Henri. "Here is what is known as a calcinedcocoon made by a worm which had a peculiar disease that turned it topowder. You would not think that such a creature could spin the bestquality of silk there is, would you? Yet it is so. Listen to the queerrattle the cocoon has. "

Holding it to Pierre's ear he shook it gently. 

"These cocoons not only have excellent silk on them, but they have moreof it than if they had been spun by a healthy worm. As a result theycommand the highest price and buyers are eager to find them. "

"I guess I don't know anything about silkworms or cocoons either, "announced Pierre in dismay. 

Both boys laughed. 

"It is amazing how much there is to know about almost anything when youonce start to learn about it from top to bottom, " declared Henri. "Icame into this filature when quite young, and it has taken me years tofind out even the little I know now. "

"I think you know a lot, " Pierre returned admiringly. "I'd be happy if Iknew even half as much. "

"Oh, no you wouldn't, " was the prompt retort. "You'd want to know agreat deal more, just as I do--that is, if you were any good. There area thousand things I want to find out. The silk business, you see, is tobe my trade. I have an uncle in the weaving mills at Lyons, and someday when I know more he is to find a place for me there. So I amlearning all I can about the classifying and reeling of cocoons; and Ihave also raised a few silkworms so as to be familiar with the verybeginnings of the industry. Soon I am to go into the filature to helpwith the reeling; and after that they have promised to send me on intothe throwing mills, where the filament is twisted into threadpreparatory to weaving. Then I shall be ready to go to Lyons and see howsilks, satins, and velvets are made. Lyons, you know, is a famoussilk-making city. It was there that Philippe de la Salle, the great silkdesigner, lived. Because he did such beautiful work he was decorated byLouis XVI with the Order of Saint Michel and was given a pension of sixmille livres. Think of that! Alas, such things do not happen now. Thatwas long ago--between 1723 and 1803. His good fortune did not, however, last long, for the Revolution came, and the court which gave him hismoney went out of power. Still the people of Lyons were proud of him anddespite the fact that he had been a court favorite they provided forhim lodgings in the Palais Saint Pierre, where he lived for the rest ofhis life. "

"I am afraid I do not know much about what he did, " said Pierre withengaging frankness. 

"Why, it was Philippe de la Salle who designed the silk hangings for thechamber of Marie Antoinette, and who originated the Empire motif of thewreath of laurel; he also designed silks gorgeous with garlandsintertwined with ribbon; or decorated with baskets of fruit and flowers;and sometimes he made use of great birds. He has done some of the finestsilk designs ever woven. My uncle told me, however, that years and yearsbefore that wonderful silks were made; and that fragments showingbeautiful designs are in the museums of Berlin and Nuremberg, as well asin our own Cluny Museum, and the great museums of London. He said therewere also marvelous church vestments of even earlier date and also somevery ancient Byzantine silks splendid with griffins, eagles, and lions. Some day, perhaps, I shall go to see them, and maybe I myself may learnto weave such fabrics. Who knows? And what are you going to do, Pierre?"

"I suppose I shall just go on raising silkworms, " was the quiet reply. "It is hard work, but I see nothing else ahead for me. However, when myfather and uncle return from the war there will be time enough for me tothink what I will do. "

"Ah, but you have a plan already; I can see that!" Henri cried. 

Pierre nodded gravely. 

"Yes, I have a plan--or perhaps I better call it a dream. I should liketo go to America. One can earn more money there. My mother's brother isat Paterson, New Jersey, which is in America, and I have some youngcousins there also. "

"Yes, yes, I know, " exclaimed Henri eagerly. "There are great silk millsat Paterson where they make fine silks and ribbons--some of them asbeautiful as any we make in France. Maybe some day you will go there. "

"I'm afraid not, " returned Pierre. "Even should the war end and myfather and uncle come home again I have no money to go to America. "

"Don't give up so easily, " Henri said, placing a hand on the youngerboy's shoulder. "We never can tell what will happen. My mother says thatif we do the best we can every day sometimes the thing we wish most willcome to us; if not, Le Bon Dieu will send something else which may beeven better. "

"I am trying to do my best, " Pierre answered bravely. "And anyway solong as my father and uncle are safe nothing else really matters. "

The boys exchanged a smile and passed on into the filature, as thefactory where the reeling was done was called. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX

HENRI MAKES A SUGGESTION

"It is now dry weather, and as this is the best time to reel silk we areworking very hard, " explained Henri as they went along. "Every machinewe have is running overtime. But before we inspect the reels themselvessuppose we see how the cocoons are soaked and made ready. The importantthing is to get the gum which the silkworm has blended with the silk outof it, and for this purpose we use soft water, having found that itloosens the filament better than anything else. That is what they aredoing here. They begin by raising the water to the boiling point, andafterward reduce its temperature by means of cold water if they find itnecessary. Care must be taken to submerge each cocoon evenly so that itsentire surface will be covered; otherwise one end will be softened andthe other end remain hard, in which case it cannot be reeled off. "

"But why do the girls stir the cocoons with those whisks of peeledbirch?" inquired Pierre curiously. "What are they trying to do?"

"The stirring frees the ends of the filaments, and the brush of twigsserves to collect them, " answered Henri. "When the ends have been caughtin this way they are passed on to the reeler; but if after trying thismethod the girls find the ends do not free themselves they put suchcocoons into a different temperature of water, or else toss them outentirely and leave them to the employees who handle the lots thatrequire special treatment. They cannot stop here to fuss with cocoonsthat fail to wind off readily; not only would such troublesome onesretard the work, but they would be likely to snarl the others. Frequently we find cocoons with uneven places in the thread, spots wherethe silkworm has been interrupted in its spinning and stopped, afterward going on with its work and making a lump or knob where thefilament has been joined. Such cocoons wind badly, as you can wellimagine, and they, too, cannot be reeled with the general lot. "

"I notice those boys are taking the empty cocoons out of the tanks afterthe silk has been reeled from them. Is it necessary?"

"Yes. We never allow the discarded cocoons, or shells as we call them, to stand in the water with those that are soaking, because they not onlyspoil the sheen of the silk on the unreeled cocoons but discolor it, "Henri replied. "Now let us watch the reeling. Shall we?"

The boys turned toward the whirling machinery. 

"I had no idea they reeled so fast, " declared Pierre, speaking loudly sohis companion could hear. 

Fascinated he stood watching the flying threads pass over the glassrods. 

"The speed of the reels can be regulated, of course, " answered Henri. "It is not often, though, that the filament snaps because the reel ismoving too fast. When the thread does break it is more frequentlybecause the regular motion of the machinery wears it until it parts. This cannot always be avoided. All filatures count on some loss bywinding. But the percentage in a modernly equipped filature is verysmall. We use the glass rods to prevent the thread from being caught orroughened. The process of winding cocoons has been so carefully studiedthat now our French reelers can turn off silk of fifteen or twentyfibres and lose only one or two per cent. Of it by waste. In Turkey theloss runs as high as six or eight per cent. ; in Syria it is fifteen ortwenty per cent. ; and in other countries where the people have lessmechanical skill the rate of loss is much higher. Successful silkreeling is a matter of good machinery, practice, and deftness. Anexperienced reeler knows his business too well to waste material. "

"All this is amazing to me, " said Pierre. "I thought the men just tookthe end of the thread and wound it off without any trouble. "

Henri shook his head. 

"No, indeed. I wish it were as easy as that. A reeler needs judgment, judgment, judgment at every turn. Not only must the floss be removedfrom the outside of the cocoon before it is reeled, but also the firstpart of the filament, which usually is weak and too fine for use, mustbe wound off until the firm, strong thread is reached. You see, thecaterpillar has to work a little while before it gets under way and doesits best spinning. All that poor filament on which it experiments orgets started must be broken off and saved for embroidery floss, since itis fit neither to be woven into broad goods or twisted into sewing silk. The reeler begins to wind where the end of the filament becomes strong. He then must combine enough fibres of the same size and strength to makea thread uniform in size. And this is not so easy as it sounds, sincethere is great diversity in the coarseness and fineness of the filamenton the cocoons. He cannot always put the same number of filamentstogether. In addition to this fact he is often required to reel silk ofvarious sizes. The coarseness or fineness demanded all depends on thepurpose for which the silk is to be used. But always each kind must beof uniform size throughout. "

"And how does he join the fresh cocoons to the others? By tying?"

"No. He runs them in so skilfully that the joining cannot be detected. Every moment he must be on the watch to add new filaments when he seesany of his cocoons giving out. As one cocoon takes the place of anotherits filament blends unnoticed in the thread. You can see that it wouldnever do to join a lot of new ones all in the same spot. "

"I suppose the cocoons run in uneven lengths, anyway, don't they?"ventured Pierre. "Scarcely any of them would contain the same number ofyards of filament even were they all to be started together. "

"Precisely. So the reeler keeps adding fresh fibres, being carefulalways that his thread is running uniform all the time. If he usesfibres of fine quality there must be more of them; if coarser fibresnot so many. He can't turn out thread that is thick in one place andthin in another. "

"That is what you or I would do, " laughed Pierre. "Or at least I should. I never could reel so fast, either. "

"It winds better fast, " replied Henri. "It has not so much time toloosen or get caught. It just has to keep moving right along. If we canget cocoons soon enough so they can be wound off before the moth hastime to come out, instead of having them cured first, they reel far moreeasily. The curing affects the silk. Of course in most cases it isunavoidable, for it would require very quick work for our agents to buyup the products of outlying silk-raisers and get them to us before thechrysalis matured. We should be taking a big chance of having our silkruined, since one never can predict exactly how long it will be beforethe moth will come out. Varying conditions bring different results. Itis a pity, however, that they have to be cured. Still, the curing hasone advantage--it decreases the weight of the cocoons about twenty-fiveper cent. "

"I didn't realize that curing caused shrinkage. "

"Oh my, yes. And perhaps you did not know what a difference there is inthe weight of individual cocoons. This depends not alone on the speciesof silkworm raised, but also on the care that has been given it. Acarefully fed caterpillar will grow larger and make a bigger cocoon. Thesame law holds with well cultivated flowers or with well tended livestock. Even persons show the results of proper nourishment. It is justso with silkworms. Cultivation tells. And not only does good care resultin larger caterpillars and finer cocoons, but also in more silk. So thenumber of cocoons necessary to total a pound of raw silk vary. We cannotcompute that, except roughly. But we do estimate that broadly speakingit takes about an acre of full grown mulberry trees to produce fortypounds of raw silk. "

"How interesting!" exclaimed Pierre. "I never thought of measuring silkin mulberry trees. "

"Not precisely in trees, but in their leaves, " corrected Henri. "If youwere a scientific sericulturist, as many men are, you would know justhow many pounds of leaves you used each day; and you would work toeconomize them so as to get the largest possible yield of silk from thesmallest possible outlay of leaves. All the big silk-growers managetheir business that way. "

Pierre sighed. 

"My mother said that too, " he returned. "But you see, we do not knowenough to plan things so closely. However, it does not make muchdifference, for we have plenty of mulberry trees. With the number ofsilkworms we raise we never could use them all up. Years ago my fatherset out our grove, and each season he has added new trees to it untilnow it stretches from behind our house far down to the river. "

"It would bring you in a lot of money if you ever wanted to sell it. "

"Sell it!"

"Yes. "

"But we'd never sell it!" retorted Pierre. "Pray, how should we live ifwe gave up raising silkworms?"

Henri shrugged his shoulders. 

"I only meant that your grove is valuable, " he explained kindly. "Do notforget that. Some time you might want money. I did not know whether yourealized how much a big grove of full grown mulberry trees is worth. "

"I never thought anything about it, " was Pierre's thoughtful reply. "Ourtrees have never seemed to me anything I could sell. I thought only ofgathering the leaves for our own use. "

"Well, just remember that your silk-house and your trees are worth agood sum to a silk-grower. In these uncertain days of war one can nevertell when money may be needed. Of course you might not be able to getsuch a good price for your property now, because France is poor, andeverything is selling for less than usual--everything except food. Still, if you found the right customer you should be able to make a goodmany francs out of your homestead. "

"It isn't mine, " Pierre answered gaily, as if suddenly coming tohimself. "It belongs half to my uncle and half to my father. What do yousuppose they would say when they came back from the war if they found Ihad sold their mulberry grove and silk-house?"

"If you needed money for your mother and little sister they wouldprobably feel you had done wisely, even though it caused themdisappointment to see their cherished possessions in the hands ofothers. And if, " added the elder boy gravely, "anything happened to themhow glad they would be that those they loved were not left penniless. "

"Anything happen to them!" Pierre's face paled. He had never, strangelyenough, pictured such a calamity. _His father! His uncle!_ True, othermen were injured fighting for France, thousands of them. But surely noharm could come to _his_ family. Those he loved would return when peacecame; take up life where they had left it; and the home would once morebe united. 

The boy glanced up to find Henri studying his face sympathetically. 

"I did not mean to make you sad, little brother, " declared the elder ladsoftly. "The father and uncle will without doubt come again just as yousay. But must we not all be brave enough to look at things squarely andwith courage? Now that your father is gone to the war you have a man'swork to do. Surely you are going to meet life like a man, not as achild. Forgive me if what I have said has hurt you. "

With instant friendliness Pierre put out his hand. 

"You have not hurt me, " he returned quickly. "You have just set me tothinking. I'm afraid I have been pretty thoughtless. My mother must havehad fears and have been worrying; yet so bravely has she kept it toherself that she has shown Marie and me only her joyous side. I mighthave helped her had I realized this before. She has always treated mysister and me as children, keeping from us everything that was hard. ButI'll prove to her in future that I, at least, am no longer a child. Thanks to you, Henri, I will go home to Bellerivre not only wiser aboutsilk-growing but wiser, I hope, about life. "

"Perhaps, then, our talk has been fortunate, " answered Henri, gazingearnestly into the upturned face. "I hope so. And maybe some time youwill write to me and let me know how you are getting on. If I could everhelp you about your silk-raising I'd be glad to. There might besomething you'd like to ask. Henri St. Amant is my name, remember; and Iam always here at Pont-de-Saint-Michel. "

With a cordial clasp of the hand the two boys parted. 

Little did Pierre know what a loyal friend his chance acquaintance ofthe morning was to prove. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER X

THE AWAKENING OF THE CHRYSALIS

When Pierre returned home he had much to tell his mother and Marie, youmay be sure, of his visit to Pont-de-Saint-Michel, and of the new friendhe had made at the Gaspard mills. 

Now that the rush of handling the cocoons was over the days were not socrowded, and although there was still plenty to keep the Bretton familybusy, Pierre and Marie resumed their normal routine of life, havingdaily lessons with Monsieur le Curé, and aiding their mother in theregular round of household tasks. There was a thorough cleaning of thesilk-house that it might be in readiness for the coming season; thenthere was the money from the cocoons, the wonderful shining francs whichthe family had earned together, to be invested. Part of them were laidaside for living expenses; and part were spent in comforts for the lovedones who were in the fighting line. 

As she now had more leisure Madame Bretton went each day to the villagechurch to work with the other women at stripping and rolling bandages;and when at home her deft fingers were never idle but flew to and fro ather knitting. Marie, too, had learned to knit and although shecomplained that her needles refused to _click_ as did her mother's, shenevertheless was already able to make a sock and fashion its toe andheel without help. As for Pierre, he split the wood, cared for the cowand the goats, toiled in the field, brought hay from the hillsides, andassumed much of the heavy work which his father and uncle had beenaccustomed to do. A new manliness had crept into his bearing, causinghis mother to regard him with puzzled surprise, and not a littlesatisfaction. 

"You are a great comfort to me, Pierre, " she would exclaim a score oftimes a day. 

Once the lad had flushed with pleasure at overhearing her say toMonsieur le Curé:

"What should I do without my good son, my brave Pierre, to lean upon?"

Thus nearly two months sped past, and the moths within the cocoons thathad been laid aside for breeding began to hatch out and force themselvesthrough the small apertures they rent in their silken houses. 

Marie viewed the first arrivals in consternation. 

"They will fly all about the house and we shall lose them!" she cried. "What can we do with them?"

But Pierre only laughed. 

"Have no fear, little sister, " he answered reassuringly. "Josef saysthey will but flutter far enough to find their mates, and when theireggs are laid they will die. "

"Alas, " sighed the girl, "what a wee time they have to enjoy the gloryof their new wings! Is it not sad, Mother?"

Madame Bretton regarded the child gravely for a moment; then she shookher head and smiled into her little daughter's troubled eyes. 

"It is not so sad as it seems, " she answered gently. "The silkworm hascompleted its work, and there is no need for it to live longer. It is sowith all of us. Each is put into the world with a task to finish, andthere can be no greater happiness than to know that that work--whateverit was--has been faithfully accomplished. To me the lesson of these tinycreatures' lives is an inspiration. "

Marie smiled faintly, but was still unconvinced. 

"But to have it all end just when they have got their wings, Mother!"

"But it does not end, chérie, " was the quiet reply. "The moths leavebehind them their eggs, which hatch into another family of silkworms. The work goes on, don't you see; it does not stop. "

The girl's face brightened. 

"It is so with children, " continued her mother. "They live after theirparents are gone, and carry forward the family name and the goodprinciples their fathers and mothers have left in their keeping. You andPierre will, I hope, take out into the world all the good things yourfather and I have attempted to teach you. Try to live always so that thename you bear shall be honored. We have been poor French peasants but wehave never done anything that could cause you shame. And now in additionto that knowledge you will have it ever to remember that your father wasa soldier of France, and when trouble came to our beloved land he gladlyoffered his life to serve her. "

A light of exaltation glowed in the woman's eyes. 

Pierre, who had stolen unnoticed into the room, thought he had neverseen his mother so beautiful. There was something in her face thatbrought to his mind the Jeanne d'Arc statue in the village square. 

Softly he bent and kissed her cheek. 

With the gesture Madame Bretton seemed to rouse herself, and her gravemood instantly shifted into playfulness. 

"Dear, dear!" she cried. "How serious we all are getting! It was yourmoths, Pierre, that set me moralizing this way. Our work with them isnot yet done, either, for we must spread out the sheets of paper onwhich they are to lay their eggs. Then we can move the pairs of mothsonto them. "

She rose briskly. 

"But how can we, Mother?" queried Marie. "When we touch them they willsurely fly away, won't they?"

"No, dear. After the moths have found their mates they can be moved veryeasily. I have often seen your father take them gently by the wings andput as many couples as he could on large sheets of white paper. Therethey remained, and after their eggs were laid we removed the moths andfolding the papers of eggs put them away for next season's hatching. Theeggs were fastened so firmly to the paper that there was no danger oflosing any of them. Now where shall we spread the papers for our ownmoths? They must be put well out of the sun and the strong light andalso where there is nothing to disturb the butterflies--no mice orinsects for example--or they will not lay eggs for us. Suppose we spreadour papers in Uncle Jacques' room. It is not in use now and it is on theshady side of the house. "

Rising, she crossed the floor and threw open the door of a vacantbedroom. 

Pierre noticed a shade of sadness flit across her face. 

"Uncle Jacques would be glad to think we are using his room, Mother, "said the boy quickly. "He has always been so interested in thesilkworms. Perhaps by the time the mulberry trees leaf again we shallhave peace, and he and Father will be once more at home helping us hatchout these very eggs. Who knows?"

"Who knows indeed, dear? Only the good God who is watching over theirlives! It may be as you say. The spring may see them back again. We mustdo our part to be ready for their coming. "

From a drawer she brought out some large flat sheets of white paper andspread them upon table, bureau, bed, and chairs. As the room was longthere was plenty of space. 

[Illustration: "GO ON TIPTOE"]

"Now see how careful you can be in bringing in the moths. Go on tiptoeand move gently. "

Slowly the pairs of greenish white butterflies were transferred to thepapers. Scarcely one did more than flutter feebly. 

"How long will it take before the eggs are laid, Mother?" inquiredPierre. 

"From twenty-four to thirty-six hours--usually not longer than that. Each female moth will lay three or four hundred eggs. "

"Shall we have room for so many?"

"Oh, yes, " nodded Madame Bretton. "You recall how small they are--onlyabout the size of the head of a pin. "

"In the meantime what are we going to give the moths to eat?" askedMarie. 

"Nothing. They are not hungry like silkworms. After they leave thecocoon they eat no food, and they will live but a few days after theireggs are laid. We must then gather up the sheets of eggs as quickly aswe can, for if they are left exposed to the light and air they willhatch at once and then where should we be?"

"The entire crop would be lost!" gasped Pierre. 

"Yes. Your father had a friend to whom that misfortune happened. He wascareless and left the newly laid eggs too long in the light, and when hecame back from the hills where he had gone on a few days' journey to cuthay the tiny silkworms were hatched and he had nothing on which to feedthem. At that season the young mulberry leaves had gone by and, in fact, the trees were nearly bare. It was a good lesson to him; but it was asad one, for the next spring he had to buy silkworm eggs, and they costhim many francs. "

"We will be more careful than that, won't we, Mother?" Marie said. 

"I certainly hope so, for we can ill afford to waste our money. "

And the Bretton family were more careful. Within a day or two the greatsheets of eggs were folded and put away in a dry, dark place where theywould be safe until the spring when, as the children insisted, Fatherand Uncle Jacques might be at home again to share in the hatching anddirect the raising of the new crop of silkworms. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

PIERRE TAKES ANOTHER JOURNEY

During the next few weeks many a letter passed between Pierre and hisnew friend Henri St. Amant; and by and by came an invitation for Pierreto come again to Pont-de-Saint-Michel and spend the day visiting theGaspard throwing mills, where the raw silk was twisted and prepared forweaving. The boy was all eagerness to go and his mother, too, favoredthe trip, for Pierre had been working very steadily and now had fewpleasures. It seemed impossible to complete the never-ending round ofduties, although with uncomplaining zeal Pierre kept patiently at them. Marie, it is true, helped with some of the lighter work; but she wasnot strong enough to do much outside the house. As for Josef, faithfulas he was, the old man was aging rapidly and could do little more thanpotter about the place and direct things. Therefore the cutting of treesfor fuel, the drawing of water, the building of fires all fell toPierre's lot. 

What wonder that with such constant use the boy's strength was dailyincreasing until he was becoming a veritable young giant? With no smallsatisfaction he beheld the muscles of his arms tighten and stand out;and when he swung his axe and brought down a sturdy sapling it was witha glow of pleasure that he heard it crash to the ground. Certainly therewere compensations in hard work! Moreover was not every French boy whowas too young to serve in the army being a man at home? He was but doingwhat all his friends were. Nevertheless the thought of a holiday didfill him with anticipation. To get into something beside his workadayclothes, and to mingle for an entire day amid new scenes, to say nothingof seeing Henri St. Amant again--what a delight it would be!

Madame Bretton caught a reflection from his happiness and that nothingshould be left undone that should enhance the joy of her son's outingshe broke over her rules of strict frugality and packed a luncheon forhim, to which she added a few of the little luxuries which for a longtime the family had denied themselves. 

And so in high spirits Pierre set forth for Pont-de-Saint-Michel. Howfamiliar every step of the journey seemed this time! And how good it wasto find Henri St. Amant awaiting him in the office of the Gaspard mills!

"I have been working over time all the last week, so they are letting mehave this morning to show you about the throwing mills, " he explained, his eyes shining into Pierre's still brighter ones. "And at noontimewhen we have finished our round of the factory we can go down by theriver, and while we eat our luncheon we can talk together. Thereforesuppose we do not waste precious moments in visiting now, for we shallscarcely have time to see all I want to show you before the noon whistleblows. "

Accordingly Pierre's box of lunch was stowed away in Henri's locker, andspeeding across the little bridge that connected the filature with thethrowing mills, the two boys entered the great factories. 

"Before we go another step there is one question I must ask you, " saidPierre, stopping in the doorway. "I want you to tell me why the twistingof raw silk into thread is called _throwing_. "

"I'll try to explain it as well as I can, Pierre, " answered Henri. "Maybe you have stuck me on the very first question you've asked, " headded smiling. "All I know is that the operation of twisting, orthrowsting, the fibres of raw silk has come to be abbreviated intothrowing. The workmen are known as silk throwsters. It is an old trade. At the beginning of the sixteenth century there were throwing mills atBologna which were so good that it is from them our present daymachinery has been copied and perfected. Usually the work is done oncommission--the manager, or throwster, receiving orders from weavingmills for exactly the sort of thread they wish to use. "

"Isn't it all alike?"

"No, indeed! It varies in size according to the number of threads in astrand, and the number of twists and turns to the inch. Some materialsthat are to be woven require heavy, loosely twisted thread; others, thatwhich is fine and tightly twisted. And in addition to these differencessome thread is not made from pure silk, or even from silk of the bestquality; raw silk which is imperfect can just as well be used forcertain purposes, or silk that is twisted with a strand of cotton orsome other filling. There are a great many qualities and kinds of threadand each one has to be specified. "

Pierre opened his eyes. 

"Organzine, for example, is used for the warp of woven silk materialsand is generally spun from the best quality raw silk, the threads beingfirm and strong. Tram, on the other hand, is silk of a second grade andis composed of a greater number of fibres. Many of the millsmanufacturing woven silks prefer not to own throwing mills. Often theirplants are in large cities where land is expensive and they musteconomize space; or the manufacturers estimate that they can get threadthrown for them cheaper than they can do it themselves. Anyway, theyeither send their own raw silk here to be thrown according to certainspecifications, or they tell us to get the raw silk ourselves and throwit into the varieties required. If the firm sends its own silk it comesto the throwster in bulk with an order to throw a certain proportion ofit into organzine of so many threads and twists; and the rest into tramof specified size, the price being computed by the pound. "

"I understand. "

"The throwsting of silk is a great test of the reeling. If the reelinghas been well done, and the size of the strand is uniform, we have notrouble; but if the reeling has been poor, and the gum not thoroughlysoaked out of the filament, the threads will snarl and break when theyare put on the machines. Frequently there is great loss from poorlyreeled cocoons, as I think I told you. And you must keep in mind thatthe cocoon gives us two kinds of silk thread--the reeled silk, which isof the best quality and is the continuous filament wound from the cocoonrequiring no textile machinery to prepare its fibres; and the spun silk, which is made from the loose floss taken off before the cocoon isreeled, or comes from cocoons that were too imperfect to be wound off bythe reelers. The latter variety must be treated much as are the fibresfrom the cotton plant, or those of sheep's wool. By that I mean that theshort lengths have to be twisted and spun together before they can bewoven on a loom. Do you see the difference?"

Pierre nodded. 

"Reeled silk comes direct from the cocoon, leaving the filatures onspools, as you saw when you were here before. After that it is broughtto these mills and wound over into hanks or skeins of a specifiedlength--usually from 333 to 500 yards. The foreman told me that long agothey had to employ one person to attend to every reel; but now withmodern machinery a single girl can watch twenty-four spools at once. Oneof the interesting things is that all the finest reels used in France, Italy, China, and Japan, come from America. "

"But why don't the Americans reel their own raw silk, then, instead ofimporting it?"

"They have no cocoons. My father says they tried raising silk inAmerica, but it was not successful. Mulberry trees will grow in someparts of the country, but there is no cheap labor to be had over thereas here, and therefore it costs too much to feed and care for thesilkworms, and reel the raw silk. It is far less expensive for Americanmerchants to import the reeled silk for their looms. But they can beatus at making machinery, if not at raising cocoons. "

Henri chuckled. 

"My father says, " he went on, "that the Americans did not perfect thereeling machines so much for our good as for their own. They used to getall kinds of silk thread from the different parts of Europe; and itcould not be woven on their looms, which are finely adjusted andrequire material of uniform size and strength. So they perfectedmachinery for the preparation of silk thread, and practically insistedthat if they were to buy of us in Europe the material ordered must bemade as they wanted it. Most of the countries over here were glad enoughto comply with their demands, for the Americans are not only enormousbuyers, but their machines are much better than ours. "

"Why couldn't they have cocoons shipped to them in bulk?" speculatedPierre. 

"They could not be easily packed, for they are not in form to ship. Itwould be foolish. Besides, there is the same old problem of the lack ofcheap labor. You see, reeling silk is often slow work. Different breedsof silkworm turn out, as you know, different qualities of thread. Youwouldn't believe how it varies as to size, cleanliness, lustre, andperfection of filament. The Americans cannot afford to pay people toclassify all these varieties; nor stop their machinery at irregularintervals to pick out the imperfections, or slugs, as we call them; alsothe many knots must be tied by hand. It is fussy work. It would cost anAmerican manufacturer lots of money to get the sort of thread he wants. You remember, too, how some of the best reelers that you saw when youwere here before sometimes had to take as many as five or more filamentsfrom different cocoons to get raw silk of a necessary coarseness; eventhen, in spite of all their care, the skeins have to be sorted andsometimes re-reeled to perfect the thread and make it acceptable toAmerican buyers. Our weavers over here would not begin to be soparticular; and in fact they often rate as _fair_ stuff that the Americansconsider _poor_, and refuse to take. You can readily see that all thispreparation of the material can be done for less price in Europe, whereworkmen do not expect such high wages. "

"What a lot of trouble the caterpillar makes people before his silk isready for the loom!" exclaimed Pierre laughing. 

"I guess you'll think so when you see all we have to do to it, " agreedHenri. "I hope you won't mind the smell of the factory. It is horriblystifling, and makes some of the men sick at first. It is the oil andwater in the silk. Silk must be damp for winding and spinning, otherwiseit breaks. It is never, even at best, thoroughly dry, for it has thefaculty of absorbing and holding moisture. Some time you'll learn moreabout how they have to allow for the moisture in silk when they weighand ship it. Raw silk will often take up as much as thirty per cent. Ofits weight in moisture without any one suspecting it. Therefore, inorder to be fair to the buyer who purchases his material by weight, theyhave in all great silk centres what they call silk-conditioning houses, where they test the goods to find out how much water is in it. This isdone by an apparatus known as a _desiccator_, which tells what the silkwould weigh if dry. To this estimate they add a definite percentage, ordinarily about eleven per cent. , to total what the raw silk wouldweigh with a normal percentage of moisture. Every purchaser must expectto pay for some moisture in his material--that is, pay more for it thanthe silk itself actually weighs. "

Pierre regarded Henri mischievously. 

"There seems to be so much to learn that I do not believe I shall getthrough this mill to-day. Maybe I'll have to spend the night here. "

"I wish you could!" cried Henri. "Why didn't you plan to come home withme and stay until to-morrow?"

"I couldn't be away over night, Henri, " answered Pierre, "although it iskind of you to ask me; there is so much that I have to do at home. "

"Let us make haste then, " Henri cried. "You have not seen anything yet, and the morning is passing. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII

THE HOME-COMING

"There are about a dozen different processes which taken together areknown as throwing, " explained Henri. "First the silk reeled from thecocoons must be wound; then cleaned of all gum; picked--which means thatthe uneven lumps must be removed; doubled, to make the thread stronger;twisted, to make it still firmer; rewound; and finally reeled all overagain into silken yarn. Then it is ready to be put into any formdesired, in accordance with orders received from the weaving companies. Sometimes it is made into what we call _singles_, one thread being givena twist to make it stronger. Sometimes, as I told you, it is made into_tram_, two or three threads being twisted lightly together just enoughto hold them; tram, as I said, is used for the filling or woof of wovenmaterials. Or perhaps _organzine_, which forms the warp threads of wovengoods and is composed of two or as many more singles as desired, isordered. Organzine can, of course, be made in any size specified, itscoarseness or fineness varying with the strength necessary; and it canalso be twisted any number of times to make it loose or tight. It must, however, be twisted in the opposite direction from the twist given itwhen the thread is made into singles or else that twist would come outand do no good. And just here is an amusing point and one that nettlesthe American buyers not a little. The moment raw silk is twisted evenonce, transforming it into singles, the custom-house officials on theother side of the water cease to regard it as a raw product althoughnothing in the way of actual manufacture has taken place in itspreparation. The difference in its rating makes a difference in the dutylevied on it. Odd, isn't it?"

"How do you come to know all these things, Henri?" demanded Pierre. "Youseem to have studied everything there is to learn about silk. "

"Indeed I haven't! But when you hear silk-making talked on every handyou can't help picking up more or less information about it. Let me beset down in a weaving mill, though, and I should be ignorant as a baby. The problems of weaving are not in my line. Here in Pont-de-Saint-Michelalmost every one is employed in the Gaspard filature, or in the throwingmills; and if not, the people raise silkworms. Since the men have beencalled to the colors practically all the work of this big manufacturingplant is being done by women, boys, and children. The few men we havewho are operating the heavier machines have either been sent home fromthe front because they were wounded or else they are not strong enoughto fight. So you see, silk is the language of the whole village. "

Henri gave a little shrug to his shoulders. 

"It seems as if France must turn out enough silk for herself and allthe world, " observed Pierre, motioning to the great bales heaped in anear-by shipping-room. 

"The output is, of course, very small now in comparison with what itusually is, " answered the elder boy. "The war has made a greatdifference. Normally France does provide a good share of the world'ssilk. But other countries do as much, if not more. For a long time Asiasent most of the silk to the United States. Labor was very cheap inChina, as well as Canton and Shanghai. The natives, however, employedvery primitive methods in preparing their material and did it verypoorly, often winding the raw silk on bamboo sticks that roughened orbroke it. Frequently the thread would be a mass of dirt and slugs. Merchants would not stand for this, and now American manufacturers havegone to China and set up their own filatures equipped with Americanmachinery. "

"How stupid of China to lose a chance like that for trade!"

"The Chinese are the slowest of all the big nations to adopt new ideas, my father says; but they are waking up. They have been so clever in thepast, and the foremost to discover so many things that it is a pityothers should take from them the fruits of their learning. It is toChina, people say, that we owe the entire silk industry. And carelesspreparation of their raw silk has not been their only or greatestcrime. "

For a moment Henri paused. 

"No. About 1870 the Chinese silk dealers got it through their heads thatwhat the American manufacturers demanded was a heavy silk thread. Nowinstead of selecting more carefully the cocoons from which they woundtheir raw silk and reeling it more perfectly, they set their ingenuityto work to increase the weight of the fibre itself by loading it withacetate of lead. "

"I should think the Americans would have been pretty angry at that!"

"They were. They told the Chamber of Commerce at Shanghai that theUnited States would refuse to buy silk of China unless this practice wasstopped. That scared the people, and for a while the adulteration ofthe material ceased. But the reform was not for long. From time to timethe natives went back to their old tricks until by and by not onlyAmerica, but even the greater part of Europe, got all out of patiencewith them. When they finally remedied the evil it was too late. Othercountries had learned the art of silk-raising and had stepped in andsnapped up most of the trade. My father says that now America, which isthe largest silk consumer of the world, buys only about a quarter of herraw silk from China. "

"So the evil-doer does not always prosper, " laughed Pierre. 

"Evidently not. In contrast to China's actions see what Japan did. Thatnation was enterprising enough to cultivate silk and foster its reeling;and when America sent the Japs machinery they set it up and soon hadtremendous filatures run by their own people. There were thousands offactories where whole Japanese families were employed in reeling silkfrom the cocoons. The Japanese raw silk, however, was not always freefrom gum, and in time there was so much complaint about this fromAmerica that conditioning houses were established at Yokohama where thegoods of each Jap merchant were examined and his personal trade-markattached to his wares so if they did not come up to the standard theycould be traced back to the owner who shipped them. Now more and moreJapanese silk is sold, and in the main it is good, although Americasometimes complains that it drops below the standard. Certainly no onecan begrudge Japan her prosperity, since she had the wit to grasp heropportunity for commerce. "

"Surely not. "

"I think the trading of different nations one with another is all veryinteresting, anyway, " went on Henri. "Why, we are like one bigfamily--or ought to be! My father has no patience with war. He thinks weshould try and overlook the other's faults as we do at home, and livetogether in peace. We all need each other, and the products peculiar toeach land. No one of us can get on without the rest, for as yet no onecountry has been able to turn out everything its people require. Ittakes every climate and every national characteristic to bring togetherthe produce of the globe. Besides, trade brings the different racescloser together. One of the greatest pities of this war is itsinterference with commerce through which avenue we were all building upbonds of universal friendship and sympathy. It stands to reason that weunderstand the people of China or America better if we have dealingswith them and meet them sometimes, than if we always stay here in Franceand read about them, doesn't it? And surely trade brings about greaterprosperity everywhere. "

"It was to bring back to France that prosperity and peace that yourfamily and mine went to the war, " murmured Pierre gently. 

"Yes. And if this can be accomplished, and this frightful war be thelast war of the world it will be worth all that we have sacrificed, "returned the older boy fervently. "But peace is a long time in coming. "

He sighed. 

"And prosperity will be still longer, I fear, " added Pierre soberly. 

There was an instant of tense silence. 

Both boys were thinking. 

"Speaking of commerce, " resumed Henri, breaking in upon the serioustenor of the moment and speaking in his former tone, "you doubtless knowthat before the opening of the Suez Canal London was the great raw silkcentre of the world; now our own Marseilles leads, or did before thisfighting began. And we must not leave out Italy when talking ofsilk-growing nations, for our neighbors, the Italians, have done as muchif not more silk exporting as has France. You see their climate is idealfor raising silkworms; and when they are not beset by a plague thatdestroys their crops, as it did between 1864 and 1878, the industryprospers wonderfully with them. The thread from the Italian cocoonsseems to be naturally stronger than ours, and some of the best qualityraw silk in the world comes from small Italian villages. Then, too, ofcourse Italian labor is cheap. While in France we pay unskilled reelingoperatives from twenty to twenty-five cents a day Italian workmen doingthe same thing get only fifteen or twenty cents. There is not so muchAmerican machinery used in Italy as here, however, and therefore somemerchants in the United States prefer French to Italian thread. Butgenerally speaking the very finest and highest priced silks made inAmerica are manufactured from French or Italian material. For manypurposes where less perfect thread is required the Americans use silkfrom the East. It is cheaper, and manufacturers cannot afford the morecostly Italian and French thread for everything they make. Importing thematerial in bulk, even compactly as it is shipped, is enormouslyexpensive. For you see there is always the chance of loss in the silkbusiness. "

"Why?"

"Because although silk is necessary in the manufacture of certainindispensable articles it is for the most part a luxury, and the demandfor it fluctuates. When times are hard people go without silk gowns andsilk stockings; nor do they expend their money in silk, satin, brocade, or velvet hangings. The fashion, too, has much to do with the demand. Some seasons women wear only satins and that throws back on themanufacturers the silks they have on hand; or velvets are worn and thesatins have to be shelved. The vogue of certain colors also often causesloss. It is a great lottery to be a silk merchant, my father says. "

"Certainly the silkworm creates lots of business for people, " declaredPierre smiling. 

"And the thread for weaving sarsnet--or sateen, taffeta, satin, andvelvet, as well as providing the fibres for sewing-silk is not all thelittle caterpillar gives, either. Had you thought of the oiled silk, used for a thousand and one purposes? Or of the silk-gut we use near thehooks of our fish-lines?"

"I fish with just a string, " replied Pierre. 

Henri chuckled. 

"You are not an expert fisherman then, Pierre, " he answered. "Still, onecan land a very good fish with a pole and string; I have done it scoresof times. But professional fishermen have a bit of silk-gut to connectthe hook with the line. Not only is it very strong, but it is invisiblewhen under water. Most of the silk-gut is made in Italy or Spain, theSpaniards surpassing all others at manufacturing it. Valencia is thechief centre for the industry. "

"And how is it made? Spun from silk fibres?"

"Not at all. You remember how, before the silkworm begins to spin, theviscid secretion is stored in the two long ducts at each side of thelittle creature's body. It is that material which it unites into asingle thread in the spinaret, you know. Well, before the worm has achance to spin, it is put into vinegar and this jellied silk isextracted. It is first soaked in cold water and afterward in a causticsolution so that its outer covering can be loosened and taken off. Thenthe yellowish gum is dried in a shady place and bleached white by meansof sulphur fumes. You can see that it is expensive because so manysilkworms must be sacrificed, and because the thread produced is sosmall. Why, I have read that it takes as many as twenty or thirtythousand strings to make a pound. "

Pierre gasped. 

"No wonder I don't use silk-gut on my fish-line!" he exclaimed. 

In the meantime the boys were passing on amid the stifling atmosphereand whirling machines. 

Suddenly the noon whistle blew and the busy wheels of the mill becamestill. 

Pierre and Henri were only too glad to emerge with the others from theclose, steamy air of the factory into the coolness of the outdoor world. Down by the river's bank they unpacked their luncheon, a royal feast, for Madame Bretton had sent enough food for both hungry boys. They werein jubilant spirits. 

"If I had a line with some silk-gut on it I might perhaps land a trout, "said Pierre mischievously. 

Henri shook his head. 

"There are no fish in this stream, because the waste from the mill flowsinto it. But some day in the spring, when I have a holiday, I can showyou a brook up in the hills where you can catch as many trout as youlike--silk-gut or no silk-gut, " he said. 

[Illustration: A ROYAL FEAST]

"There are fishing-holes at Bellerivre, too, " retorted Pierre proudly. "Why should you not make the next visit? You could then see my motherand my sister Marie; and I could show you our silk-house. "

The sounding of the whistle cut short further conversation and warnedthe boys that their day together was at an end. Henri had to go back tothe mill and resume work at his machine from which the kindly foremanhad released him in the morning; and Pierre must take his train home. 

But what a perfect day it had been!

As the engine hurried him toward Bellerivre Pierre busied himselfthinking how much he would have to tell his mother and Marie. Thevillage was reached almost before he realized it, and as he descendedfrom the train he was surprised to find Monsieur le Curé standing on theplatform to greet him. 

The face of the priest was pale, and with apprehension Pierre made hisway toward him. 

"My son!" was all the old man could say. 

Instantly Pierre knew. 

"You have bad news, Father, " he cried quickly. "It is from the war. Tellme! Do not fear. I am no longer a child. "

Trembling, the kindly friend put a hand on the boy's shoulder. 

"It came this morning--the message, " he said. "I did not tell yourmother, but waited for you. There has been another great battle and----"

"My father?"

"He is missing, Pierre. "

"And Uncle Jacques?"

"He will come no more, my son. He has given his life for France. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII

PIERRE TAKES THE HELM

Silently Pierre received the news. He neither trembled nor cried out. Ina vague way he realized that ever since that day long ago when Henri St. Amant had first presented this possibility to his mind he hadunconsciously been bracing himself to meet with courage some suchemergency. And now the blow had fallen, and it was he who must break thenews to his mother, and be the strong prop on which she might lean. Sobusy was he with these thoughts that he scarcely sensed the presence ofthe faithful old priest who walked beside him. A score of confusedreveries were surging over the boy, and out of the chaos of grief, reminiscence, and wonder, clearer ideas began to form themselves. 

"We must sell the place, " he declared, thinking aloud. "That will giveus some ready money to start on. "

"I, too, think that might be well. "

It was the quiet voice of Monsieur le Curé. 

"Forgive me, Father, " said the lad. "I had forgotten----"

"Do not reproach yourself, my son, " replied the priest gently. "I didnot accompany you to be a burden in your sorrow--only that I might helpif I could. "

He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. 

Pierre glanced into his eyes gratefully. 

"About the selling of the home--you think it would be wise?" he asked. 

"It seems to me now to be the best plan; but I should wish to considerthe matter more carefully before I gave a final decision. Advice mustnot be given too hastily. "

"You see, " continued Pierre, still formulating his ideas, "the constantcare of a large crop of silkworms is too hard for my mother and Marie. We have been able to manage it one season, and we might even do it two;but to feel we must work as hard as that forever--it is not to bethought of. If we are to take up sericulture permanently we must havemore help, and with the comparatively small margin of profit we are ableto make we are not in a position to do that. When my father and unclewere at home it was a very different thing. Of course I have Josef, buthe can do only the lightest part of the work. I am glad to do my share, more than my share; but I am only a boy, Father, and not so wise nor sostrong as my father was. Nor have I his knowledge. If our crop ofcocoons should fail some season either through my lack of skill orbecause of some unavoidable calamity, we should be without money onwhich to live. It would be terrible. The thought fills me with fear. Help me, Father. You are older than I. Give me your counsel. Do youthink I am right, or only a coward?"

"To face the truth is never cowardly, Pierre, " answered the priest. "Youreason well, my son. To take upon yourself in future the care you haveborne this year is far too much for a lad. It is a work for severalable-bodied men. That you and your mother and Marie have been able to doit even this once is little short of a miracle. Of course you have eachthrown your entire heart and strength into it. Then, too, the season hasbeen ideal. No calamities have befallen your crop. Neverthelessmisfortunes do come. There are distempers that ravage the silkworms; badweather that wrecks the mulberry foliage; a thousand possible accidentswhich at any moment may sweep away your income. Such a reverse would bea dire catastrophe to you and your family. " The curé pausedthoughtfully. "But if you were to sell the place, " he went on a secondlater, "what would you do? Surely the sum you would receive for it, evenif it was a generous one--a thing we can hardly expect in wartime--would not be sufficient for you all to live upon. "

"I should not try to live here, " answered Pierre promptly. "Long ago Imade up my mind that if anything befell my father and my uncle I wouldpersuade my mother and Marie to go with me to America. "

"America!"

"It is not so far away. "

"It is at the other side of the world!" asserted the simple priest. 

Pierre laughed. 

"No, indeed, Father. America is but a ship's journey away. Besides wehave relatives there. My mother's people are all at Paterson, NewJersey. My plan would be to take part of the money we get for our homeand with it pay our passage to America. There I could find work at goodwages, and take care of my mother and sister. "

Monsieur nodded silently. 

"All this, " continued Pierre, "is in case my father is not found. Youtell me he is missing. What does that mean, Father?"

"It may mean any one of several things, " returned the curé. "Your fathermay have been wounded and carried to some enemy's hospital; he may be aprisoner in some war camp; or----"

The old man faltered. 

"Or----" persisted Pierre. "Speak, Father. Do not be afraid. "

"Or he may have fallen, and be lying unclaimed on some distantbattle-field. "

"And what do you think is the chance of his being heard from?"

Unflinchingly the boy put the question. 

"We cannot tell. He is in God's hands. I should wait for a time, my son. Then if no message comes we must----"

Again the kindly voice wavered. 

"We shall know he has been lost, " put in Pierre in a whisper. 

"I fear so. "

Stillness fell between the two. Each was thinking. 

"Then for the present I will not speak yet to my mother of selling thehome, " said Pierre at last. "We will wait and hope for good news. It iscruel to distress her unless we must. All may yet be well. Surely shehas grief enough as it is, for she was very fond of my uncle. "

"You are a wise lad, Pierre, " exclaimed the curé. "Do as you have said. Console your mother with the hope of good tidings from the front. Theymay come--who knows? And if not, her sorrows will at least come singlyand not all at once. "

And thus it came about that through the great grief that overwhelmed theBretton home it was Pierre who was his mother's stay and comfort. He itwas who counseled hope and patience; he who took up the burden of actingboth as father and son. 

But despite his courage the message so eagerly longed for did not come. Days, weeks, months dragged on. The winter passed and faint hints ofspring began to steal into the landscape. The river, foaming with themelted snows from far up the Pyrenees, dashed with deafening roarthrough the mountain gorges. There was a new brilliancy in the noondaysunshine. 

To Pierre the worst had now become a certainty. His father would neveragain be heard from. Somewhere in a camp or battle-field far from homelike a true son of France he had given up his life for his belovedcountry. With sinking heart the boy faced this reality. He had notsensed until now how subtly a secret anticipation that the facts mightprove otherwise had buoyed him up. But now hope was gone. How should hetell his mother? How break in upon the dream she was cherishing, andrudely force upon her the need for action?

How would she receive the plan for selling the home? To leave the spotshe loved so much would be an overpowering blow to her, for had she notcome as a bride to her present dwelling? Nay, more; she had been born inBellerivre and had never ventured beyond its confines. What would shesay to breaking every tie of her old life and setting forth from thevalley she loved to end her days in a strange and unknown country? ForMarie and himself it was well enough; they were young and their daysstretched far before them. But for his mother it would mean only thesevering of every familiar association. 

Poor Pierre! Many an anxious hour did he spend wondering how he was topresent his plan so that it would not seem cruel. 

Then one day he suddenly saw how useless had been his worry. It was hismother herself who spoke and made the very suggestion he had beenhesitating to voice. How calmly and with what courage she did it! Ah, Pierre need not have feared that she would fail to meet the great issuewhen it came! Madame Bretton was too much of a woman for that. Insteadshe had a long talk with her children and afterward a letter wasdispatched to the relatives in that mystic land, America. Soon a replycame back. Madame Bretton had come of fine peasant stock, and herbrother had carried with him into the new land of which he had become acitizen his native loyalty and bigness of heart. He now wrote urging hissister and her fatherless children to come to Paterson and share hishome until such time as they could find work and settle themselves insome convenient community. 

And when this was agreed upon who should come forward to Pierre's aidbut Henri St. Amant! He it was who found at Pont-de-Saint-Michel acustomer ready to purchase for a good price the Bretton homestead, withits well-equipped silk-house, and its grove of thriving mulberry trees. Together with Pierre and the curé he worked out every detail of theBrettons' departure, acting with a wisdom that was amazing in so young alad. The faithful Josef was to have a home with the old priest; nothingwas forgotten. Certainly Henri was a friend in need!

Therefore one sunny morning the Brettons started south across France forthe seaport from which, a week later, they were to set sail for thatuntried world toward which many another hapless exile had journeyed, andwithin whose borders the refuge of a home was offered. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIV

PIERRE AS A TEACHER

It appalled Pierre to see how much of the little fortune received fromthe Bretton homestead had to be expended in reaching America. The moneywhich had seemed such a fabulous sum in Bellerivre evaporated in the newland like the dew before the sun. Madame Bretton was too independent toconsent to live with her brother's family and be a burden to them longerthan was absolutely necessary, and therefore the renting and furnishingof a simple apartment became unavoidable. After this expenditure but asmall bank account remained, and this the family agreed must not be cutin upon; something must be left in case of illness or disaster. Inconsequence the only way left to meet the expenses of daily living wasfor all three of them to take positions in the great silk mills, whereso many hundreds of others were employed. 

This was a great mortification to Pierre. Not that he was ashamed tohave his family rated as working people. Every one in the world, atleast those who were useful, worked in one way or another. Hishumiliation lay in the fact that he who had thought himself able to bethe breadwinner for both mother and sister, was in reality nothing butan unskilled laborer, whose services for the present commanded butslight remuneration. The discovery was not only disconcerting butgalling. It was bad enough to have Marie enter the mill. But hismother----! To think of his mother, at her age, becoming a milloperative!

If the step was as repugnant to Madame Bretton as to Pierre she at leastmade light of it. They must all live, she cheerily explained, and livingin America was a far different problem from what it had been in thegreen valley of Bellerivre. And after all they were but doing what manyanother household in Paterson was doing. Why should it be any lessdignified for her to labor in a mill than at raising silkworms? Besides, it might not be for long. When Marie and Pierre learned and became moreexpert maybe they would earn enough so that she could retire and staywithin doors like a lady of fortune, keeping the home and--she jestinglyadded--dressing in some of the very silk she had helped to make. Thuswith affectionate banter Pierre's objections were quieted if notovercome, and through the influence of Mr. Gautier, Madame Bretton'sbrother, who was a superintendent in one of the larger mills of theplant, good positions were found for the entire family. 

Fortunately both Marie and Pierre were of an age to pass the Child LaborLaws of the State, an important detail of which Pierre had previouslybeen in ignorance. Many children who applied for places, he learned, were constantly being turned away because they were too young; andbecause much of the work formerly done by them was now performed bywomen or girls. 

Among the toilers in the vast manufactory almost every country wasrepresented. There were more Italians than any other nationality; andranking after them came Germans, Irish, and Dutch, with a scattering ofFrench and Poles. It made the Brettons feel quite at home to findthemselves among some of their own countrymen. 

But what a different place Paterson was from the fertile valley they hadleft behind them! There were the great blackened factories--a city inthemselves--with their tall chimneys and whirring wheels, which one cameto hear almost in one's sleep. And there were the homes huddled closelytogether into which humanity was herded. Even the blue of the sky wasdimmed by a veil of heavy smoke. What wonder that it took all theBrettons' courage to be cheerful under such conditions; or what marvelthat many a time they sighed in secret for that far-away land where theyhad been born? But there must be no looking backward. Resolutely theycrushed the homesickness that surged up within them, and began to learnall they could of this strange new country which in future was to betheir home. 

Paterson, their Uncle Adolph explained, had become the greatest silkcentre of the United States, because it was so near New York, the citywhere most of the raw silk from European ports was received. 

"But I do not understand why the factories are not built in New Yorkitself, " remarked Pierre. 

"Taxes are too high and land is too expensive to afford the necessaryarea for such great mills as these, " explained his uncle. "Small silkgoods which can be made in little space are manufactured in New York; infact, the headquarters for American laces, fringes, trimmings, andtassels is there. To have an ideal location factories must be sosituated as to be near a large city which will assure the selling ofgoods, their shipment, and the chance to secure plenty of labor for themills. Moreover, they must be built where, as I said, land iscomparatively low priced and plentiful, and the taxes moderate. Such acombination is not easy to find. It explains why so many cities have inthem the kinds of manufactures they have. It is an interesting study tofollow out. Here in New Jersey, for example, we have throwing andspinning mills, large dyeing establishments, and we weave the finest ofribbons as well as broad goods. "

"What do you mean by broad goods?"

"The term applies to dress materials and the silks that are sold in theshops by the yard, " answered his uncle. 

"Pennsylvania, too, is a large silk-making community, " went on Mr. Gautier, "because fuel is cheap in that State; and because, since somany of the Polish, Irish, and German men work in the mines silk millsafford a livelihood for the great numbers of unemployed women, girls, and young boys in their families. In fact the State of Pennsylvaniaoften gives to companies that will come into the mining districts andput up silk mills not only the land for their factories, but also sitesfor the homes of their employees. That is one thing that has brought somany silk mills into Pennsylvania. Quantities of ribbons and broad silksare made there, as well as velvets and upholstery goods. It is a greatthrowing and spinning centre. "

"Tell me something about the other States, " demanded Pierre, his eyeswide open with interest. 

"Well, there is Connecticut--that is a large silk-making district. Abouttwo-thirds of the machine twist is manufactured there; and they turn outboth narrow and broad goods--silks, velvets, plushes. At SouthManchester some of the finest and most artistic American silks are made. Massachusetts stands at the front in the manufacture of sewing-silks, which require finely equipped plants and much heavy machinery;embroidery silks, wash-silks, and trimmings are made there, too. "

Mr. Gautier paused a moment. 

"Then there is Rhode Island, " he continued. "That is a silkmanufacturing State also, although it does not turn out anywhere near somuch material as do the others that I have mentioned. If you want to bein the largest silk-making spot in America Paterson is the right place, "he added, smiling down at his nephew. "There is no end of chance for abright boy to rise in these mills. But you must be quick and work hard. You seem to be able to do both those things, Pierre. Just go to it, myboy, and you need not fear but you will be earning good wages soon. "

In spite of his French ancestry Monsieur Gautier had caught the Americanslang. 

Pierre glanced up into his face. 

"I shall do my best for my mother's sake, if for no other, " he replied. 

"Well, you'll certainly have your chance to work here, " laughed hisuncle. "There is variety enough to please you, too. We have throwingmills; a place where we dye silk in the skein; a winding and weavingplant; another plant for dyeing goods in the piece; and a big printingand finishing plant. If you do not find something to suit you by thetime you have worked through all these it will be your own fault. Ofcourse women have the monopoly of certain parts of the work; but thereis plenty left to go 'round, so do not worry. "

[Illustration: "I SHALL DO MY BEST"]

With a twinkle in his eye Monsieur Gautier went into his office. 

During the weeks that followed many new experiences did the Brettonfamily have, and much did they learn of silk-making. From every sourceavailable they gleaned information, for being versed in silk-raisingthey were eager to know all they could of the rest of the process, especially Pierre. He found there were hand-looms for the making offiner varieties of silks which were manufactured in smaller quantitiesand were of individual design. On American power-looms, which weresurprisingly light of construction and were handled with great ease, most of the other goods were made. It was remarkable that a machinecosting comparatively little and so simple to operate should be soaccurate in weave, and turn out so much work. As for the old Jacquardloom that in a former day had transformed the industrial world--it hadbeen so altered and improved as to be hardly recognizable. Formerly, helearned, looms of Swiss and German manufacture had been employed inAmerica; but these had speedily given place to the American high-powerautomatic loom, especially for the making of ribbons which were woventhe same way as were broad goods, except that the shuttle was not aflying but a fixed one, that moved from side to side like asewing-machine. So clever was the construction of these looms that theyseemed to be little short of thinking creatures; when plain ribbon wasto be turned out the operatives who were paid so much for the _cut_ orten yard piece, had little to do beyond seeing that there was plenty ofthread on the spools, and that the ends were tied when broken. 

For the more expensive and elaborate ribbons, however, more involvedmachinery was required. One device after another had been added toeliminate human labor, but even then these machines needed more personsto operate them. As a result of their complexity the speed of theseintricate machines was less, and in consequence the price of making thegoods was increased. Nevertheless there was a vast improvement over pastconditions, when all overshot and embroidered effects had to be workedout on hand-looms. It enabled Americans to turn now to home manufacturefor their ribbons. It was nevertheless true, Mr. Gautier explained, thatmuch of the home market was created by the high tariff on the Frenchribbons still manufactured on hand-looms; these continued to be ofchoice design and of greater variety of pattern than were the Americangoods that had to be turned out in larger quantities on power-looms. Were it not that the American ribbons could be bought cheaper the Frenchones would probably, in many cases, be preferred. 

About one half of the total silk output of America, Pierre was told, wasin dress goods. Many of these were rich in quality, but many were not. The American women eagerly followed the fashions and were, as a class, far more concerned about having silk of a fashionable color thanpossessing that which would wear a long time. In fact, they did not wishmaterials to wear too long. Most of them were fairly well-to-do and wereable to discard a garment when a passing fancy had been gratified, andafter a thing was passé they would rather toss it aside than wear itout. In consequence shopkeepers, who studied the market as if it were athermometer, refused to cumber their counters with expensive goods whichmust only be shelved after their color or design was out of date. Suchconditions had created an American market for cheap silks such as wasunknown in Europe where quality was a far greater factor in the sale ofsilk materials. In the United States these flimsy dress goods could beturned out with little expense on American power-looms by unskilledworkmen, whereas in other countries experienced men were needed to makethem. 

As for the soft satins or messalines, they were made almost entirely inEurope because the cost of American labor was too great for them to beproduced here. The operatives making them were paid by the piece and theprocess of weaving was a slow one. The heavy brocades and tapestries forupholstery were usually of such elaborate design and so interwoven withgold thread that to manufacture them on power-looms was practicallyimpossible; and as hand-looms were required European hand-loom work wascheaper than American. 

"The flaw in our power-loom is that double threads cannot be handled, "explained Mr. Gautier to Pierre. "Any goods requiring such treatmentmust of necessity be made on hand-looms. "

So little by little Pierre's knowledge grew. 

Military and upholstery trimmings, he ascertained, could be turned outin large quantities on power-looms; but dress and cloak trimmings, whichwere more elaborate, were made in America only in comparatively smallquantities and again because of their intricate patterns and goldthreads Europe could produce them cheaper on hand-looms. If, however, the pattern desired was sufficiently simple, and a large enough quantityof it was ordered to make it pay the manufacturer to bother with settingit up it could be made on the American power-loom. Fancy braids weremade chiefly in Europe from the floss or spun silk taken from theoutside of the cocoon; but plain braids, Pierre was interested to know, were made in America as cheaply and well as in Europe, most of thembeing manufactured from artificial silk. 

It was a great surprise to Pierre to find there was such a thing asartificial silk. 

"I knew there were artificial flowers and artificial--well, almosteverything, " laughed Pierre to his mother. "But artificial silk!"

He gasped. 

"What is it made of, Pierre?" questioned Madame Bretton, who had come toregard with wonder the fund of information her big son was acquiring. 

"The man who told me about it said that cotton and the pulp from softwood were used for one sort, " he answered. "Another kind comes fromdissolving cellulose in chemicals, and forcing this mixture through longtubes into some sort of a bath that makes the material come out inthreads; these threads can then be wound, spun, washed, soaked, anddyed. Here in America most of the artificial silk which, by the way, isknown as viscose, has cellulose in some form as its base, afterwardbeing treated with different combinations of chemicals. "

"What shall we do with you, Pierre, if you learn so much?" questionedMadame Bretton mischievously. 

Pierre smiled. 

"I'm going to learn every bit I can, so that I may soon work up toearning lots of money, " he said. "Then you and Marie can leave themills, and I can take care of you. "

"You are a good son, " his mother answered with an odd little catch inher voice. "But do not be distressed because we are in the mills. Indeedwe are very happy there. "

"You would make the best of anything you had to do, Mother; you're thatsort, " replied the boy, taking her hand in his. "But I know well it ishard for you to work at a machine all day when you have never beenaccustomed to it, and I do not mean you shall do it one moment longerthan I can help. "

"There, there, son----" his mother's eyes filled, and to change thesubject she said briskly:

"And these artificial silks of which you were telling me--are they goodfor anything else but for making braids?"

"Yes, indeed. Nitro and viscose silks are more brilliant and lustrousthan are real silks. They have no such soft feeling, however. They feelmore like the harsh, loaded silks made from thread which has beenchemically weighted. But they are coming into demand more and more forsuch purposes as the warp and filling of various sorts of fabrics, rugs, silk stockings, and upholstery materials. Here in this country, whereelectricity is in general use, artificial silk is a blessing, for itserves as a substitute in the insulating of electric light wires, andthe manufacture of mantles for lights. "

"How clever people were to find anything that could be used instead ofthe real, carefully nurtured cocoon silk, " mused his mother. 

"I know it. I suppose chemists worked at the problem a long time beforethey solved it. That is the way most of the great discoveries were made. Still, the wild silk made by the moths of India is not carefully grown. From it the Oriental Tussah silk is made; then there is Eria silk, alsoan uncultivated product from India; the Fagara silk from China; and theYamamai silk from Japan, which is next to domestic silk in value. Allthese are manufactured from silk spun by silkworms that have had nocare. The foreman was telling me about it the other day. "

There was a pause. 

"What did you mean, Pierre, when you spoke of loaded silk?" questionedhis mother. "I have heard the term used many times, but I have neverunderstood it. "

Pierre looked at her with amusement. 

"Anybody would think that I was your schoolteacher, Mother mine!" hereturned. "I feel very silly telling you things when you are so mucholder and wiser than I. "

"I certainly am older; and I used to be a little wiser, " replied hismother humorously, "but I shall not be so long. You see, dear, I neverhad much education and I am now too old to learn. But you areaccumulating knowledge every day. You are like a sponge, Pierre. Youseem to soak up every bit of information that you hear. "

"I must get my schooling this way, Mother, since I can secure it in noother, " answered the boy soberly. "And perhaps it is a good way afterall, for since I am eager to know something I try and remember everyscrap I hear. I may want to use it later. "

"Your father used to say that no knowledge comes amiss, " was hismother's soft answer. "How proud your father would be of you, Pierre!"

"But I must know more, and more, and still more, Mother, before I canget to the top!" exclaimed the boy eagerly. "And now to tell you ofweighted silks. You see, in dyeing silk the material shrinks and losesabout a quarter of its weight. Manufacturers found that by addingchemicals, or sugar and glucose during the boiling off, they could makeup for this loss. That is how the custom started. Black silks, whichshrunk the most, were treated first. Later the practice spread tocolored, and even to white silks. Now, alas, the evil seems to have cometo stay. Salts of tin in varying degrees are used in the dyeing of mostsilks, and the result is that the material becomes crisp and harsh sothat it cracks when folded, and does not wear long. "

"What a pity!"

"Yes. And yet perhaps the Americans, who are none too anxious to wearout their old clothes, are quite as well satisfied, " chuckled Pierre. 

"In what an endless number of ways silk is used!" reflected MadameBretton. 

"Yes. And when you have done with the ribbons, and trimmings, andbraids, and silks, and upholstery brocades, and satins, think of thevelvets and plushes that can now be made in this country in all sorts offancy designs on power-looms instead of on hand-looms as formerly. Ofcourse it is still cheaper to import certain kinds of velvets andplushes; but a great many of them are made here, as are the largerproportion of the velvet ribbons which are easily turned out onhigh-power machines. "

"What about silk hosiery and underwear?" questioned his mother, muchinterested. 

"Silk stockings and silk gloves, Uncle Adolph says, are a big Americanproduct. There is little finishing to them except putting the buttons onthe gloves. In fact I read the other day that the silk used for them wasonly slightly adulterated, and that they were made even better than inEurope. But making underwear seems to be another story. Each garmentmanufactured has to be shaped as it is made, and therefore the processis a special one and the knitting is slow. This results in expensivelabor, and a very limited output. After the seams are finished, thebuttons on, the fancy braid and facings in place, and the finaltrimmings stitched where they belong, the profit is small. All this canbe done much cheaper in Europe, and were it not for the protection of ahigh tariff, Uncle Adolph says, Americans would buy all such goodsabroad. The tariff protects the American silk industry at every turn. Idon't know where the United States would be without it! Then you mustremember that after this silk underwear is done it is not sold toindividual customers in any considerable quantity. Instead it retailspiece by piece, and therefore every piece has to be folded and packedseparately. No wonder such things are expensive here!"

"I never realized before how interesting the problems of making thingswere, " said Madame Bretton, glancing up at Pierre. 

"It is all fascinating when you take it as a whole. But if you just doone part of the work over and over and never connect it with the entireprocess, it is tiresome enough. Every workman should consider himself alink in the big chain, and try to make himself familiar with the otherlinks. Then he will feel as if he is really doing something, and notjust pegging away day after day as if he were a machine. That is why Iwant to learn all I can about silk as a complete industry. It makeswinding bobbins and reeling thread a more important matter. Some firms, Uncle Adolph says, have moving picture lectures and by means of themexplain to their employees the entire process of their particularindustry so they will be more intelligent about what they are doing. Ithink that is a fine thing. Nobody likes to do some uninteresting thingover and over, week after week and year after year, unless heunderstands what he is doing. Even the money you earn doesn't help tomake your work less monotonous. How can employers expect their men tohave any ambition, or any desire to turn out flawless products unlessthey realize that each detail of a process makes the perfect whole? Imean to know every step of the road I am traveling so when I get to thetop----"

"So when you get to the top you can make silk all by yourself, "interrupted his mother, completing the sentence with a smile. 

"Well, I'm going to know how, anyway, " nodded Pierre. "And I wish tolearn not only of silks and velvets, but laces, too. Laces are fussy, difficult, and expensive to make. I want to find out all about them. Iknow they have to have the strongest and most perfect thread. In Europesuch goods are made either by hand, or on hand-looms. It is a slowprocess at best. But the power machines here, slowly as they are forcedto work, can of course turn out lace much faster than it can be made inEurope on hand-looms. Consequently the commoner kinds of laces are madein this country, used, and worn out while they are in fashion; for theAmericans shift their fashions in laces quite as fast as they do theirfashions in silks. Before a certain design can be sent to Europe, manufactured, and sent back again the vogue for that particular patternwill have ceased and Americans will be wearing something else. That iswhat saves the lace trade for America. It is the same with the making oflace veils. "

"There seems to be no keeping up with these Americans, " laughed MadameBretton. "Certainly there is no keeping up with their cost of living!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV

THE GREAT SURPRISE

During the next few months the Bretton family prospered in their careersin the Paterson mills. Madame Bretton, whose deftness and care inhandling material was quickly recognized, was promoted to a positionmuch better suited to her age and refinement, and also one that was morelucrative. In addition Marie, skilful too of touch, was put in thelabeling department. But with undaunted spirit Pierre still drudged atthe heavier work of the mill, mastering one step after another of itsdull processes. To another boy the slow climb to the top of the laddermight have been tedious; but to the French lad, with eyes fixedconstantly on the great industry of silk-making as a whole, every partin the ingenious art became interesting. 

Despite the fact that Mr. Gautier was his uncle the boy received nofavors. In such a vast group of factories one superintendent had smalljurisdiction over individual workers; nor was Mr. Gautier a man topromote unjustly. Whatever progress Pierre made he made on his ownmerits. On entering the mills he had been employed at _lacing_, one ofthe simpler tasks usually given to beginners. His duty was to run shortthreads in and out through the skeins of silk in order to divide theminto four parts, and prevent them from becoming tangled in the dyeing. Many young boys and girls known as _lacers_ were set at this task forthe first month or two. But Pierre did not remain a lacer. He went on tobeing a learner in other departments. 

He saw how the raw silk which arrived at the factories in bales rangingfrom eighty to a hundred twisted skeins were weighed; sorted as toquality; soaked in oil so that the gum might be extracted, and the endsfreed for winding. He witnessed the drying, or rather the partialdrying, of the silk. All this was an old story, for he had seen everystep of the process before when at the Gaspard throwing mills. Thenfollowed the winding on big, three-inch spools; and the first spinning. Afterward if the thread was for tram it went direct to the doublers, tobe made stronger; but if it was for organzine it was spun again afterleaving the doubling frames, and was given a much tighter twisting. Itwas then reeled into skeins again, this form being found the mostconvenient one for dyeing. The tying, or lacing of these skeins, hadbeen Pierre's work. The skeins after being laced were then bundled, orpacked tightly, to be sent to the dye-house. This finished the work ofthe throwing mills and Pierre was interested to see that the process waspractically the same in America as in France. 

But from the time the dyed silk came back to the weaving millseverything was new. The weaving of broad goods such as dress materials, mufflers, handkerchiefs, and necktie silks took place on the broadlooms; while narrow goods such as ribbons were woven on the narrowlooms. It was a long time, alas, ere Pierre came to understand thecomplex weaving machinery; and before he half comprehended it a mostunexpected happening befell the Bretton family. 

It was heralded by a letter from far-away Bellerivre--a letter fromMonsieur le Curé; and before the amazing tidings in the missive could beassimilated another letter--a feeble scrawl--followed. 

Monsieur Bretton lived!

The beloved father they had given up as lost was actually alive!

He had been wounded, captured, and kept a prisoner in a hostile campfrom which it was impossible to communicate with his family. As soon ashe was able he had been forced to work for his captors, and there he hadremained cut off from all knowledge of his family or friends. By and byhe had succeeded in escaping and reaching his own lines, only to be shotdown in the next battle in which he had taken part. Then had followed along illness in a French hospital where under the care of the kindsisters he had hovered 'twixt life and death. There had been no lettershome because he had been too delirious to tell his nurses where towrite. At length out of the chaos had come sanity, and now because hiswounds were such that he could do no more fighting he had come home toBellerivre. Monsieur le Curé and Josef were nursing him, and he hoped tojoin his dear ones in their new home as soon as he was able. 

It was a wonderful story!

Some day, the doctor said, he would regain his strength and be wellenough to do some simple work so that he could still earn a livelihoodand not be a burden to his family. 

How good the tidings were! How almost unbelievable!

Over and over again the jubilant Brettons rehearsed the tale and framednew plans for the future. It took all Madame Bretton's resistance not todraw from the bank the treasured nest-egg still reposing there and gohome to France to nurse her husband back to life. But Monsieur le Curébade her not to come. The invalid was in good hands and progressingrapidly. Soon she might send money for the journey, and the kind priesthimself would see the wounded Frenchman aboard a ship that would carryhim to America. It was the wisest plan. Both he and Monsieur Brettonthought so. Then when peace was restored to the weary world, and thefamily had sufficient money they might all come back together toBellerivre, never again to leave its sunny valley. 

Thus argued the old priest. 

But that day never came. 

Pierre rose to a fine position at Paterson, enabling him to establish apretty home there in which his father and mother lived in comfort. Marie, in the meantime, married an American and settled next door. 

Thus the new land, once but a haven to a tempest-tossed household, became the permanent dwelling place of the Bretton family. Affectionately they remembered the green valley of Bellerivre; and thefriendship of the old priest and the faithful Josef. Tenderly theyspoke of their neighbors in the old home and ever loyally they loved LaBelle France, the soil that had given them birth. 

But the spell of America was upon them. They did not wish to go back. 

The golden path of opportunity lay in the country of their adoption andin exchange for all that it was giving them they resolved to return adevoted citizenship. 

And so between the two great sister Republics another bond wasestablished--a humble bond to be sure, but one that linked in lovingties the old world and the new; and daily spanned the distance betweenthem with many a kindly thought, and a speeding message of good-will. 

 The Stories in this Series are:

 THE STORY OF COTTON THE STORY OF GOLD AND SILVER THE STORY OF LUMBER THE STORY OF WOOL THE STORY OF IRON THE STORY OF LEATHER THE STORY OF GLASS THE STORY OF SUGAR THE STORY OF SILK THE STORY OF PORCELAIN