short of stature,
far plumper and more savory-looking than one of his pies, with a
pleasing countenance and twinkling black eye, that meant humor or
roguishness as circumstances might demand, and a never-ending supply of
what is always popular, dry humor. He was just the man to manage the
thousand caprices of appetite of a thousand different men. While in
camps accessible to the cities of Washington and Alexandria, matters
moved smoothly enough. His zinc-plated bakery was always kept fired up,
and a constant supply of hot pies dealt out to the long strings of men,
who would stand for hours anxiously awaiting their turn. A movement of
the baker's interpreted differently by himself and the men, at one time
created considerable talk and no little feeling. On several occasions
the trays were lifted out of the oven, and the pies dashed upon the
out-spread expectant hands, with such force as to break the too often
half-baked undercrust. In consequence the juices would ooze out, trickle
scalding hot between the fingers, and compel the helpless man to drop
the pie. One unfortunate fellow lost four pies in succession. As they
cost fifteen cents apiece, the pocket was too much interested to let the
matter escape notice. A non-commissioned officer, who had lost a pie,
savagely returned to the stand, and demanded another pie or his money.
The baker was much too shrewd for that. The precedent, if set, would
well nigh exhaust his stock of pies, and impoverish his cash drawer.

"I say," said the officer, turning to the men, "it is a trick. He wants
to sell as many pies as he can. He knows well enough that when one falls
in this mud fifteen cents are gone slap."

"Now, boys," said the baker blandly, "you know me better than that. I'd
scorn to do an act of that kind for fifteen cents. You know how it
is--what a rush there always is here. You want the pies as soon as
baked, and baking makes them hot. Now I want to accommodate you all as
soon as possible, and of course I serve them out as soon as baked. You
had better all get tin-plates or boards."

"That won't go down, old fellow," retorted the officer. "You know that
there is hardly a tin-plate in camp, and boards are not to be had."

A wink from the baker took the officer to the private passage in the
rear of his tent. What happened there is known but to the two, but ever
after the officer held his peace. Not so with the men. However, as the
pies were not dealt out as hot in future