Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1918-05-05

thick curtains pulled together ana We
see by electric light. No sense in It. but
one has pasted long strips of gummed
paper diagonally across the big glass
panes to prevent their shivering and
breaking in air conclusion. The shops
Rave done roaring trade In summea
paper.
Shall I get beefsteak or chops at the
butcher's?" asks Louise. told her she
need not go out. We have American
timed corned beef. NO." says Louise;
Mother is knitting. to keep her nerve
and patience. She Just won't go to the
cellar. I'D get pneumonia" she says. 81
almost feel like washing out some
handkerchiefs and socks" (The laun-
dry is very irregular; and now: who
knows?) Boom! Another big explosion.
Suppose we should want to leave
Paris?" It's great problem, this leav-
ing Paris or staying. One hates to go:
tickets have to be waited for several
days.
bring. Dring. Our doorbell.
A French lady in tears. Il saw DR..
trail Paris. Shells have fallen. He saw
one at such and such place" The
lady has her Angora cat in her arm.
Poor Mimi. you'll be killed like >your
mamma! 1 have my tickets for Pogue,
tax taxi to the railway Iva depotS More
tears, but this panic is exceptional.
One aged lady in our apartment house
goes with her daughter to their chateau
this evening. No other family budges.
It racks the nerves. Night before
last, at 8 PM, the sirens Of Paris and
our Neuilly church bell gave the alarm
of Gothas. Rushing and rumor on the
stairs. Women running down. All
shutters and curtains tight. No lights
to show. We stay in our fat, like sew
sral by veed Candle
in the hall. Waiting. waiting. No
barrage Of anti-aircraft cannons. Silence.
An hour passes.
Crash! A big bomb. rather far of. A
silence. The .janitor comes up, So
ciably. kind man. We smoke ciga-
rettes in the darkened parlor. sDesultory
talk. "A man came from Paris and
says it's so and So" This waiting
my heart beats" me. I get dry mouth.
Chewing peppermints.) Long siIsnce.
The janitor goes down to his lodge.
Ruor and Easety q the stairs i IT,:
clear" OUT! Mother. we can 60 to
bed. 1t is near midnight"
Tired folks sleep well. Every night
we have slept soundly after the "alrs
clear" trumpet. In the silen. watches.
II we wake. we revel In the peace and
silence Of 1t. All, it's good, the plain
peace of God! All. it's good. good will
to men, men Of good will! All. they are
hateful. conQuerors! Peace. peace, sleep
well. We do.
At 9 am. the next morning (yester-
day morning). new alarm of Gothas.
We said Gothas. All alarms are the
same. We listen. No barrage. Boom!
And then more silence in the gay sun
light Rumors on the stairs, as usual.
go down. The janitor's lodge is full
OF schoolgirls from the establishment
across the way. They have apportioned
so many to each cellar refuge. Docile.
silent girls. between nine and fifteen,
anxious not to give trouble. And, down
in the cellar. the usual tea party Now
and then a school girl slips down.
Boom! Far away, in east Paris ex-
blossoms sound one every fifteen min
utes. Queer Gothas! We supposed
them bombs from Gothas. Yet how can
1t be? There's not a cloud in the blue
sky.
SO all day yesterday. till 3 pm. Every
nfteen minutes. In the early morning,
then petering of to one every twenty
five, forty-flve or seventy minutes. tho
boom! Of an isolated explosion In east
Paris. Queer, queer.
~
The weather is magnificent. After
lunch we walk in the Neuilly avenues
with mother. She will stop to chat