A thorough search of the surrounding country, however, disclosed the fact that there was not a stove nor a field range to be had—no, not even from the commissary. There was nothing for it but to set to work and contrive a fireplace out of field stone and clay, with a bit of sheet iron for a roof, and two or three lengths of old sewer pipe carefully wired together for a stovepipe. It took days of hard work, and it smoked woefully except when the wind was exactly west, but the girls made fudge enough on it for the entire personnel of the Ammunition train to celebrate when it was finished.
When the girls first arrived in Montiers the Salvation Army Staff-Captain was rather at a loss to know what to do with them until the hut was built. They were invited to chow with the soldiers, and to eat in an old French barn used as a kitchen, in front of which the men lined up at the open doorways for mess. It was a very dirty barn indeed, with heavy cobwebs hanging in weird festoons from the ceiling and straw and manure all over the floor; quite too barnlike for a dining-hall for delicately reared women. The Staff-Captain hesitated about bringing them there, but the Mess-Sergeant offered to clean up a corner for them and give them a comfortable table.
“I don’t know about bringing my girls in here with the men,” said the Staff-Captain still hesitating. “You know the men are pretty rough in their talk, and they’re always cussing!”
“Leave that to me!” said the Mess-Sergeant. “It’ll be all right!”
There was an old dirty French wagon in the barnyard where they kept the bread. It was not an inviting prospect and the Staff-Captain looked about him dubiously and went away with many misgivings, but there seemed to be nothing else to be done.
The boys did their best to fix things up nicely. When meal time arrived and the girls appeared they found their table neatly spread with a dish towel for a tablecloth. It purported to be clean, but there are degrees of cleanliness in the army and there might have been a difference of opinion. However, the girls realized that there had been a strenuous attempt to do honor to them and they sat down on the coffee kegs that had been provided en lieu of chairs with smiling appreciation.
The Staff-Captain’s anxiety began to relax as he noticed the quiet respectful attitude of the men when they passed by the doorway and looked eagerly over at the corner where the girls were sitting. It was great to have American women sitting down to dinner with them, as it were. Not a “cuss word” broke the harmony of the occasion. The best cuts of meat, the largest pieces of pie, were given to the girls, and everybody united to make them feel how welcome they were.
Then into the midst of the pleasant scene there entered one who had been away for a few hours and had not yet been made acquainted with the new order of things at chow; and he entered with an oath upon his lips.
He was a great big fellow, but the strong arm of the Mess-Sergeant flashed out from the shoulder instantly, the sturdy fist of the Mess-Sergeant was planted most unexpectedly in the newcomer’s face, and he found himself sprawling on the other side of the road with all his comrades glaring at him in silent wrath. That was the beginning of a new order of things at the mess.
The Colonel in charge of the regiment had gone away, and the commanding Major, wishing to make things pleasant for the Salvationists, sent for the Staff-Captain and invited them all to his mess at the chateau; telling him that if he needed anything at any time, horses or supplies, or anything in his power to give, to let him know at once and it should be supplied.