and jokes with every one who passed and
keeping order with the crowds of farmers, drivers, and horse-dealers who
were jostling through the big open doors and clamoring for food for
themselves and their animals. She was the type of the hard-working,
capable Frenchwoman of whom there are thousands in France.

Some years ago I was on the committee for a great sale we had in our
arrondissement in Paris for the benefit of "L'Assistance par le
Travail," an excellent work which we are all much interested in. I was
in charge of the buffet, and thought it better to apply at once to one
of the great caterers, Potel and Chabot, and see what they could do for
us. We made an appointment, and Mme. de B. and I drove down to the
place. The manager was out, but they told us that Madame was waiting for
us in the back shop. We found rather a pretty woman, very well dressed
in velvet, with diamond earrings, and I was put out at first--thought
that didn't look like business. However, we talked a few minutes; she
said her husband was obliged to go to the country, but would certainly
come and see me the next day. Then she stepped up to her desk, where
there was a big book open, said she understood we wished to give an
order for a buffet for a charity sale, and was at once absorbed in
sandwiches, tea and coffee, orangeade, and all the requirements for such
an occasion. She was perfectly practical and gave us some very useful
hints--said she supposed we wanted some of their maitres d'hotel. We
thought not--our own would do. That, she said, would be a great mistake.
They weren't accustomed to that sort of thing and wouldn't know how to
do it. One thing, for instance--they would certainly fill all the
glasses of orangeade and punch much too full and would waste a great
deal. Their men never filled a glass entirely, and consequently gained
two on every dozen. She told us how much we wanted, made out the
estimate at once, and ended by asking if we would allow them to present
the tea as their contribution to the charity. It didn't take more than
twenty minutes--the whole thing. She then shut up her book, went to the
door with us, thanked us for giving them the order, and hoped we would
be satisfied. That business capability and thriftiness runs through
almost all Frenchwomen of a certain class, and when I hear, as of course
I often do, the frivolous, butterfly, pleasure-loving Frenchwoman spoken
of, that energetic, hard-working bourgeoise comes into