Buttons

ꢾ

Buttons Stephen Morehouse Avery
Speaking strategically, the village of Angres is not worth the powder, and it is doubtless for this reason that it is able to smirk impudently up at the bright French sun when all of the surrounding towns have been bombarded to bits. Angres doesn't nestle beautifully in any hills. It peeks right up out of a mildly rolling country as though its immunity was the result of divine protection rather than the incidence of its board of trade. It has proved the importance of being unimportant.
Mme. Moignnea was entirely unappreciative of the town's good fortune, She declared that she preferred bullets to billets, and that an occasional shell was n'importe compared to the devastation of those British appetites. The madame had a big and comfortable house--she was the general's wife, you know--so it was but natural that her third floor should be a barracks, her second floor a quarters de luxe for those unscrupulous sublieutenants, and her downstairs une grande dining-room.
"Eat is what they do, those Tommee Atkeens. They eat and flirt with that Emilie of mine, m'sieu, until I am veree wild." It was too much for madame.
That Emilie of hers was enough to make any one "veree wild." Of course her talents in this direction were utilized more upon men than mothers, but as to the "wild" part of it, there can be no doubt The men were made wilder than madame. It was said that Emilie's pretty face had kept the blaze from the great house when the Huns swept through on their way to the gates of Paris. In fact, all through the weary months of Schrecklichheit in Angres, Emilie had devoted most of her time to singing to and flirting with the officer Fritzies.
It had been worth while, however, because those officer Fritzies got to like Angres pretty well, and everything was left intact for the most part when a French flank movement squeezed the Germans into trenches just east of the village.
Then came the glorious occupation of the poilus and all would have been lovely if Gottlieb had not made off with her buttons. But Gottlieb had become angry and taken her buttons, which was a dastardly bit of frightfulness in Emilie's eyes.
You see, it was a very wonderful collection of buttons. There were French buttons, English buttons, German buttons, even Russian and Italian buttons, and they had been terribly hard to collect, because those officer people did not like to give them up. Emilie's enemies said that she would offer a kiss for a regimental button which was not already in her collection.
"It was this way, ma mere," said Emilie. "Gottlieb was a captain of the Bavarian Forty-Third, and I did not have their button.
Besides, he wanted to take me back for a Fritzie wife, and he was the nicest officer Fritz that was ever in this house."
"He is a German, Emilie. You should be ashamed."
"But I did not want Gottlieb--only his button, which he should have given me gladly. Instead, he said, ma mere, that I must kiss him to get it. This I said I would do, because I thought he was a nice Fritz. But when I had the button I did not want the kiss and postponed it."
Madame became a little wilder than usual.
"You are a wicked girl, Emilie, and your great father will be broken in the heart with you. Be gone! It is the time for you to go to the hospital."
"It is a tragedy. I am broken in the heart already, because of my buttons. Before the retreat Gottlieb came for his kiss, but his mustache was longer, and I could but refuse. Then he did swear veree much, and took all my buttons away with him. Your Emilie is desolated."
"My Emilie is insane and wicked."
The French occupation was quite brief.
Emilie busied herself with the hospital work. She quickly obtained all the new buttons, and she had only two proposals from the new officers. Then the poilus were relieved by a regiment of British
"Tommee Atkeens," the Bradford Fusiliers. The second floor was filled with unscrupulous sublieutenants, the most unscrupulous of whom was that Lieutenant Vic Cottingham. Emilie had to sing them but one quaint little English song that night to reduce this Vic to such a state of non-resistance that she easily snipped a button from his coat.
"You are a veree generous Tommee, M'sieu Lieutenant Veek," she said.
"And you are a veree beautiful and accomplished little maid of Angres," he said right back. "When the war is over, I am going to take you back----"
But Emiliie dodged out of the corner and was safe. Every time the lieutenant came out of his trench for a rest period, however, he bothered her to death with his makings of love. He took her in a