“Gee, this is the best feed I’ve sat down to in a long, long time,” admitted O. D. as he piled the brown potatoes knee-deep in his plate. “Wish I could speak French like you do, I’d be able to keep from starving.”
“Oh, I don’t parley much, just enough to get along. Course, I never have any time to study. If we get a chance I’ll teach you some of the stuff.”
“Thanks. Say, wonder if you could get her to give me a drink of water. I’ll pass away with this thirst.”
“Here, take a glass of the vin rouge. It may be better than the stuff I had in my canteen,” offered Jimmy.
“No, believe I’d rather have the water, if you can get it without too much trouble.”
“None t’all. Wait ’till the madame blows in again; I’ll see what we can do.”
“Madame, avey vous der low?” asked Jimmy, hoping that she would get his meaning.
“Der low,” repeated the woman, lost for a moment. “Der low,” again. This time with great wondering, “Pas compris, monsieur.”
“Cum see, cum saw,” explained McGee, raising an empty glass to his lips.
“Oh, pardon, monsieur, pardon, oui, tout de suite.” She hurried over to the wall and pulled a part of it out, found a cupboard where nobody else would have ever dreamed there was one, and drew forth a glass. She brought the glass to Jimmy and gave it to him.