"Well, it is true. They crossed on Tuesday at the very time we were having such fun placing our two little Dinantais--and to-day, oh, Mother dear, I can't write it--they have attacked Liége. Nobody seems to know just what has happened. It is sure that the Belgians were told by Germany that they would not be disturbed. Henry came in this afternoon with a copy of a Brussels paper in which only two days ago the German Minister to Brussels said in an interview that Belgium need have no fear from Germany.
"'Your neighbor's house may burn but yours will be safe'--his very words. Think of that!--and at the very time he uttered them their armies were there ready to cross. The King must be a perfect brick. The Germans sent him a message, telling him what they proposed to do. He called the parliament instanter and read them the document. It was in the Brussels papers. It began by saying that the French intended to march down the Meuse by Givet--a town on the border only a little distance from Dinant--and then on to Namur into Germany!
"There never was such a lie. Why, we have just come from there. There wasn't a sign of such a thing. The French army didn't begin to mobilize until Sunday, and it will take days and days, and here Germany is _in_ Belgium. She says that she won't hurt the Belgians if they will let her march through so as to attack France--and she gives them twelve hours to decide--think of that. Doesn't it make you want to fight yourself? The cowards! It is like a knife in the back. But I am proud of little Belgium. They say the king and parliament sat up all night going over things and in the morning they sent back word 'No, the Germans could not pass with Belgium's consent and if they tried to she'd fight,' and she's doing it!
"Everything has gone to pieces, mail--news--even money. The men can't get any, and we're down to about five francs apiece. You ought to see the high and mighty Laurences without a dollar in their pockets--I wouldn't have missed it for a fortune. They are like two helpless kids. They've always had it and depended on it to get them everything they wanted and to make everybody else do everything they wanted done. Now they can't get it and they wouldn't be more helpless if their legs had been unhooked. The trouble is we can't get to Brussels without money--for they've _taken the car_! Doesn't it sound like a comic opera, Mother dear? I forgot you never saw one, but it's just such crazy things they do. We've credit, at least, for the firm has an agent here--a big one; but the office is closed, for the agent and bookkeepers are mobilized. Suddenly we, Mr. Laurence and Henry and their proud corporation, are nobody. It won't last. It's inconvenient, but it's good for them. They somehow were so sure of things--of Germany, of the power of the firm, of themselves--when they had their pockets full and now--why, now we're beggars! But we're American beggars and I tell you it does brace one up to remember that.