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"Arrivez donc, jeune fille!" she exclaimed impatiently. The servant came. "Apportez du thé, Séraphine." "Oui, mademoiselle." Then Lois lounged towards the table and tore sharply the wrapper of the newspaper. George was still standing. "He's probably got something in about her this week about her soirée last Tuesday. We weren't invited. Of course he went." George saw the name the Sunday Journal.
At last Jim had an idea and said, "Apportez- nous du cafe-au-lait sans le cafe." That fetched it. The fellow twigged at once. Not bad of Jim, was it? Jolly slow place Paris. The swimming baths are the only place worth going to. Jim went in off the eight-foot springboard. You should have seen the natives sit up at the neat dive he made.
"Apportez moi a le consuelo Britannique, s'il vous plait," he would say, for he was by no means ignorant of French. In the meanwhile, he found the intimate aspects of Mr. Butteridge an interesting study. There were letters of an entirely private character addressed to Mr. Butteridge, and among others several love-letters of a devouring sort in a large feminine hand.
Louis, when her song attracted an ear in a second-story room under whose window she was passing. As usual, it was fitted to the passing event: "Apportez moi mo' sabre, Ba boum, ba boum, boum, boum." "Run, fetch that girl here," said Dr. Keene to the slave woman who had just entered his room with a pitcher of water. "Well, old eavesdropper," he said, as Clemence came, "what is the scandal to-day?"
Rations are not a guarantee that the amount mentioned will be forthcoming; they only permit one to have it if it can be obtained. One interesting result of the stringency, according to an American officer writing from Paris, is that guests even at formal dinners, may be asked to bring their own bread, finding this postscript on their invitations: "Apportez un peu de pain si vous le voulez."
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