Even the hole in her stocking gave her piquancy; and she had wonderful black hair, which probably had not been combed properly for a month, and big, crackling black eyes.
They told us that one day, a week or two before we came, she had been particularly cheerful--so cheerful that one of her patrons was moved to inquire the cause of it.
"Oh," she said, "I am quite content with life to-day.

I have word that my husband is a prisoner.

Now he is out of danger and you Germans will have to feed him--and he is a great eater! If you starve him then I shall starve you." At breakfast Captain Mannesmann, who was with us, asked her in his best French for more butter.

She paused in her quick, bird-like movements-- for she was waitress, cook, cashier, manager and owner, all rolled into one--and cocking a saucy, unkempt head at him asked that the question be repeated.

This time, in his efforts to be understood, he stretched his words out so that unwittingly his voice took on rather a whining tone.
"Well, don't cry about it!" she snapped.