After going through the same old stuff with the madame, Jimmy, with the help of Gabrielle, madame’s nineteen-year-old daughter, finally succeeded in arranging for a dinner of _pomme de terre frites_ and an omelet. While they were washing up a little bit, Gabrielle told Jimmy that there were three Americans sleeping in the house. The girl told him that the Americans had arrived the night before, tired out and hungry. None of them had got up yet, she told him. Jimmy was just taking a man’s share of the potatoes when the door in front of him opened. “Jimmy McGee! You old son of a gun! What in hell!” “George Neil!” shouted Jimmy as he rushed at the new-comer and nearly bowled him off his feet. “How did you get in here?” “_Cushayed_ too long and the outfit left me back in some little joint ten kilos or so from Bar-le-Duc. Joyce and Pop Rigney are still _cushayin’_. Who’s your friend?” asked Neil, pointing to O. D. “Oh, hell, I almost forgot. This is O. D. Picked him up yesterday; he’s goin’ to the outfit as a replacement. Meet my pal, George Neil, O. D.” “Glad to know you, sergeant,” said O. D., shaking Neil’s outstretched hand. “Forget the sergeant stuff, old man. Glad to meet anybody that Jimmy McGee knows. But what did you say that your name was?” “It’s William G. Preston, but Jimmy—,” answered O. D. “I changed it to O. D. Don’t you think that’s better, George. Look at the way he’s rigged up,” interrupted Jimmy. “You’re right, Jimmy. Where did you enlist from, O. D.?” asked Neil. “He was drafted. But that don’t make any difference. Wasn’t his fault he didn’t volunteer. I got his whole story and it’s straight. He’s one of us from now on and I’m goin’ to get him in the outfit,” declared Jimmy. “Good stuff—shake on that, O. D.,” and George Neil shook hands with the drafted man to show him how he felt. “_Messieurs, voluez-vous manger?_” (Messieurs, will you eat?) “Bet your life. _Oui, mademoiselle, toot sweet_,” answered McGee as he began getting chairs up to the table. “Let those two mopes _cushay_. We’ll _monjay_ and then call ’em out,” suggested Neil. In answer to his suggestion the door of the room that he had been sleeping in opened and a bald head stuck out. “Look out, Pop—cover that bald dome up. You’re too old to be goin’ ’round uncovered,” warned Jimmy. “I’ll show you how old I am if I get skinned out of those _poms_ and _dey zerfs_,” shot back Pop Rigney, as he pulled his bald head behind the protection of the door. He began talking to Joyce, who was still in bed, and the men at the table knew that Pop was warning him to dash for the table unless he wanted to starve.