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