Two naked figures, half man, half beast, sit opposite each other with faces turned to wink at you. They have horns and tails and the unmistakable Boche cap on their heads. Between them is a roaring fire on which they expect with relish to fry their supper. In their hands are two great peacock feathers which cross and make graceful crescents along the length of the wall. On the feathers are poised--or endeavor to be poised--miniature figures of the heads of the Allied nations. President Poincaré, in frock coat and stovepipe hat, is trying frantically to keep his balance; King George V is sprawling and just ready to fall; King Albert is hanging on desperately by one hand; and the Czar, in ermine robes, is trying wildly to hold on to his crown and keep his equilibrium at the same time. The other kings are all awkwardly trying to keep from dropping off. In the center, directly over the flame is a whimsical Scotch lad, playing his swan-song on a bagpipe. And always the big Boches leer diabolically. The effect on me was at first to make me laugh, and then to make me rage. So cock-sure, so clever, so insulting! There were other caricatures on the side walls, medallion portraits of George V and Poincaré, but nothing so subtle as the big painting. The little girls, who had stayed in the village throughout the German occupation, told us that the schoolroom was used as an officers' mess, and that there used to be a great many soirées there. It had taken a month to paint these modern frescoes, and the children had been allowed to watch the artist work. "Were the Boches nice to you?" I asked one of them. "Oh, yes, fairly--assez gentils; they taught us a little German, but we never speak it now." "Did you have enough to eat?" "But yes, food was brought to us every week by the Americans." "Mademoiselle is American," put in the lieutenant. "Tiens!" said the little girl, and grew too bashful to speak. "We should have died but for the Americans," she said at last, looking down at her apron. "You had rice and vegetables, I suppose. Did you ever have meat and eggs?" And I confess that for "eggs" I said, not "uh," but "uffe." The other child began to giggle. "Tais-toi," exclaimed my little friend quickly. "Didn't you just hear that the lady is American?" It might be hard to express thanks, but not while she was about should Americans be made fun of.