"I don't want to go to another hotel," she screamed. "I'm sickantired of hotels. Take me back to Geneva."
"Don't smack her again, Ulysses," said Mrs. Quackenbush. "It only makes her worse. Hush, Treasure. It isn't a hotel. This is where the President lives."
The screams were halted by the surprising sight of Herr Guadeloupe popping out among the assembled footmen with sword in hand. "It is a hotel," she whimpered. "I can see the elevator man," and she pointed to the Dalmatian Admiral who had appeared in the doorway. The yells began again when Herr Leutz, after a piteous glance at the horrified President, tried to lift the child out of the car. Mr. Quackenbush seized her savagely and handed her to Romsteck who carried her in and deposited her howling on the floor. A truck, containing at least three times as much baggage as the President and Nyla had brought, drove up behind the flivver. Among the general movement of servants Herr Leutz seized the opportunity to
