It was real tea, but then there was reason for that, for Julie had insisted on going into the big kitchen, to madame's amusement and monsieur's open admiration, and making it herself.

But the chocolate cakes, the white bread and proper butter, and the cream, were a miracle.

Peter wondered if you could get such things in England now, and Julie gaily told him that the French made laws only to break them, with several instances thereof.

She declared that if a food-ration officer existed in Caudebec he must be in love with the landlady's daughter and that she only wished she could get to know such an official in Havre.

The daughter in question waited on them, and Julie and she chummed up immensely.