and a few other optimists
backed me up and told me to go ahead. After more or less trouble I got
the Red Cross nurses and four or five "Y" girls from various towns
committed to last Thursday evening. One lieutenant engaged the Semur
orchestra, which is several months older and more professional than
ours. Then I made a memorable call on the Mayor of Pouillenay, M.
Champenois, a delightful, impressive old Frenchman. I found him in the
parlor of his little stone house seated at a huge desk; his sweet
little wife, with black lace in her hair, tending the fire. They made
me come in and sit down, and an hour went by in the discussion of art,
literature, and the affairs of the world, before they would let me
approach the business of the day. When finally I did make my errand
known, he granted me the lavoir free of charge, undertaking to have
the floor put down himself. We parted the best of friends.

Then followed two days of real work; scrubbing, heating, and
decorating and lighting the lavoir. To make a long story short, it
was charming when we got through. Evergreens, flags, candles and four
electric lights softened and illuminated the dank old place, while two
stoves made it reasonably dry and warm. The floor was sprinkled with
cornmeal. And the dance was a real success; lots of fun, and also with
something distinguished and graceful about it. It was what you might
call "a real lace party," though the only lace on the scene were the
festoons of ancient cobwebs that swayed from the big oaken rafters
high above the reach of the longest broom. As the atmosphere of a
battalion radiates from its commanding officer, I give Major S. the
credit for that unmistakable "touch" that marked our dance.

No sooner off with one dance than I began plotting another. It seemed
too bad that the enlisted men shouldn't have a chance, and the lavoir
all decorated and ready. Major S. gave me permission, and M.
Champenois generously allowed me to keep the lavoir another evening.
Where to get the girls? The Red Cross nurses are allowed to dance only
with officers. I went to Mme. Gloriod, who helps me out on every
proposition. She made me a list of the names of about thirty French
girls, the "four hundred" of Pouillenay, so to speak, and in the
afternoon, with two dear little girls to guide me, I interviewed the
stern mammas of the said damsels, assuring them it was "comme il
faut," urging them to come. About ten accepted, many of the others
bein