A Woman's Experiences in the Great War

by Louise Mack

CHAPTER XLVIII

FRENCH COOKING IN WAR TIME

There is no more Belgium to go to.

So I am in France now.

But War-Correspondents are not wanted here. They are driven out wherever discovered. I shall not stay long.

All my time is taken up in running about getting papers; my bag is getting out of shape; it bulges with the Laisser Passers, and Sauf Conduits that one has to fight so hard to get.

However, to be among French-speaking people again is a great joy.

And to-day in Dunkirk it has refreshed and consoled me greatly to see Madame Piers cooking.

The old Frenchwoman moved about her tiny kitchen,—her infinitesimally tiny kitchen,—and I watched her from my point of observation, seated on a tiny chair, at a tiny table, squeezed up into a tiny corner.

It really was the smallest kitchen I'd ever seen, No, you couldn't have swung a cat in it—you really couldn't.