A. A.
The Milkwoman and the Milkcan
In one of the streets of B	an R,A.F. car had
skidded on the greasy surface and upset a little hand-
cart laden with milk. The crash was violent enough
to smash the flimsy shaft. Milk flowed from an
upturned^can and spread .over the roadway. Much
discomfited, the officer driving the car pulled up and
got out. His companions were not so serious:
'Rotten landing, Bill!'
The neighbours, brought to the scene by the
noise, had plenty to say:
6Ah bien\ What's the milkwoman going to say
when she comes back?'
'Where is the milkwoman?'
'She's at No. 8, M. Metayer's, delivering his
milk. . . . She comes here from the next village every
day and pulls the cart herself. . . . It's her living. . . .
What'll happen to her now? She'll want five
hundred francs from you at the very least/
Which brought great joy to the hearts of the car's
passengers.
'Five hundred francs! Come on Bill, pay up!
Tout de suite . . . and the tooter the sweeter!'
At this juncture the milkwoman arrived. An old
woman she was, in apron and bodice, her hair white,
her face thin and weary. The sight of the milk lying
in the roadway struck to her heart.
\* she cried, 'my milk!'
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