t, too, because they brought these as you needed them. And besides,
the things they gave you to eat weren't much different from the things
you had for Sunday or Thanksgiving dinner at home, and it was cooked the
way his mother would have cooked it--even better, perhaps. And lots of
it. And paper snappers and caps and things, and much laughter and talk.
And Buzz Werner, who had never been shown any respect or deference in
his life, was asked, politely, his opinion of the war, and the army, and
when he thought it all would end; and he told them, politely, too.

After dinner Mrs. Ladd said, "What would you boys like to do? Would you
like to drive around the city and see New York? Or would you like to go
to a matinee, or a picture show? Or do you want to stay here? Some of
Joyce's girl friends are coming in a little later."

And Buzz found himself saying, stumblingly, "I--I'd kind of rather stay
and talk with the girls." Buzz, the tough guy, blushing like a shy
schoolboy.

They did not even laugh at that. They just looked as if they understood
that you missed girls at camp. Mrs. Ladd came over to him and put her
hand on his arm and said, "That's splendid. We'll all go up to the
ballroom and dance." And they did. And Buzz, who had learned to dance at
places like Kearney's saloon, and at the mill shindigs, glided expertly
about with Joyce Ladd of Madison Avenue, and found himself seated in a
great cushioned window-seat, talking with her about Kipling. It was like
talking to another fellow, almost, only it had a thrill in it. She said
such comic things. And when she laughed she threw back her head and your
eyes were dazzled by her slender white throat. They all stayed for
supper. And when they left Mrs. Ladd and Joyce handed them packages
that, later, turned out to be cigarettes, and chocolate, and books, and
soap, and knitted things and a wallet. And when Buzz opened the wallet
and found, with relief, that there was no money in it he knew that he
had met and mingled with American royalty as its equal.

Three days later he sailed for France.

Buzz Werner, the Chippewa tough guy, in Paris! Buzz Werner at Napoleon's
tomb, that glorious white marble poem. Buzz Werner in the Place de la
Concorde. Eating at funny little Paris restaurants.

Then a new life. Life in a drab, rain-soaked, mud-choked little French
village, sleeping in barns, or stables, or hen coops. If the French were
"a gay people, fond of dancing and light wines