This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 Excerpt: ...There was an army camp-stool beside the table on the platform. I sat down, opened my blue silk beaded bag, and took out a wee mirror and a powder-box with a pink ribbon rose on its top. Leaning over the mirror on the table, I powdered my nose. I took my time, too. When the handkerchief had dabbed off extra powder, I ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 Excerpt: ...There was an army camp-stool beside the table on the platform. I sat down, opened my blue silk beaded bag, and took out a wee mirror and a powder-box with a pink ribbon rose on its top. Leaning over the mirror on the table, I powdered my nose. I took my time, too. When the handkerchief had dabbed off extra powder, I looked again into the faces before me. I confess I smiled hopefully, although down deep I wondered. Applause and more applause. Laughter. Some one shouted, "Do that again!" Pent-up feelings had spilled over. The boys were now ready to listen. I had them with me while I talked of certain qualities of French character. I did not dare let longwindedness break the spell. Half an hour was enough. While Anne was getting the first song started, I went to the back of the hut. Men were sitting on writing-tables. I asked if there were room for me. The man I spoke to was an Italian. He jumped down and moved away in the crowd. I called him back and made a place for him beside me. I had heard rightly. His was the tenor voice I was trying to locate. I persuaded the Italian to come with me to the platform. There he sang us a solo, "Darling I-yam Growing Old." After the show was finished, the sergeant who had given me the stick of Wrigley's took me to see bread made. On the way over he said, "I wish, Mrs. Gibbons, you could tell the Entertainers' Bureau at the Y. M. C. A. headquarters that they ought to tip off anybody going to a bakery. I was detailed to Nevers for a while. Singers and others coming to the bakery there used to make the same mistake you did to-night. You think all the men around a bakery knead bread. 'Tis n't true. Detachments of infantry are here doing guard." "I see," said I. "I never thought of th...
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