The demand for drink was incessant and kept the attendants busy. There
were only two of them: the proprietress, a dark-skinned lady,
familiarly termed Mother Charcoal, and a mite of a boy whom the
English customers called the "imp" and the French _polisson_ (rogue).
Mother Charcoal was a stout but comely negress, hailing originally
from Jamaica, who had come to Constantinople as stewardess in one of
the transport-ships. Being of an enterprising nature, she had hastened
to the seat of war and sunk all her ready-money in opening a canteen.
She was soon very popular with the allied troops of every nationality
and did a roaring trade.
"Some brandy--your best, my black Venus!" shouted Hyde.
"Who you call names? Me no Venus."
"Well, Mrs. Charcoal, then; that name suits your colour."
"What colour? You call me coloured? I no common nigger, let me tell
you, sah; I a Georgetown lady. Me wash for officers' wives and give
dignity-balls in my own home. Black Venus! Charcoal! You call me my
right name. Sophimisby Cleopatra Plantagenet Sprotts: that my right
name."
"Well, Mrs. S.C.P.S., I can't get my tongue round them all; fetch the
brandy or send it. We will talk about your pedigree and Christian
names some other time."
This chaffing colloquy had raised a general laugh and put Hyde on good
terms with the company.
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