And all was to stay well for a time at least, for the war moved away from us and we were needed less and less to pull the ambulance cart back and forth to the front. And then one evening while we were out in the meadow, we saw them taking down the tents. The orderlies, nurses, and doctors from the field hospital were all leaving, packing up, moving on. The old man, with Emily beside him, was standing in the yard, deep in conversation with one of the German doctors. Suddenly she was running over to us, shouting and waving wildly. I knew it, she cried. I prayed for it to happen. They do not need you anymore. The doctor has told Grand-Père that you can stay. He says you can stay here forever and ever and work with us on the farm. For Topthorne, the transition from pulling an ambulance cart to pulling a hay turner was not a difficult one. And for me, it was a dream I dreamed many times since I left the farm in Devon. For months we were left alone and in peace with Emily and her grandfather. These were the best times, the happiest times.