"Where can we get bread?"
He took up the passes and looked at them. His face lightened.
"This one," he said, turning to another, "is written--Give them bread to
the value of three francs. We will give them three francs."
"No you won't," said we; "you'll give us bread. You cannot leave these
English sisters to starve."
After some grumbling he said we could inquire at the "first army." We
made him write out an order; we also made him give us a clerk to
accompany us. He gave us a tattered old man whose toes were sticking
from his boots.
We presented both orders at the "first army." It refused at once. We
threatened it with the War Office and with the mayor. After some demur
it sent us across the town again to the "magazine" office.
At the magazine office we were more wily. We presented our little order
for three humble loaves. He first said "Nema," then admitted that there
was bread and that we could have it. We then showed the order for the
other loaves.
"No, no," he cried, "you cannot have all that bread.
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