"There, there, don't cry little cabbage," Sara said, and ran through all the French endearments she could think of, followed by literal translations of English ones, each new effort being greeted by a lustier bellow than the one before. Sara was being reluctantly forced to the conclusion that the infant had taken a dislike to her on sight when she saw a gleam of hope. Scrabbling in her bag she brought out a piece of Toblerone, rather tattered as to its wrappings but still recognizable. The crying stopped as suddenly as if a tap had been turned off.
From BRETON ADVENTURE, Chapter 13, Sara Does Some Rescue Work.