to propitiate Quackenbush. "Your maternal vife give me one vhale of a kick, Herr Ambassador. Pretty nifty! Now perhaps she please to undress herself."
"The Herr President overstates his intention," explained Cointreau tactfully. "He does not always mean all that he seems to say."
"He's funnier than Charlie Chaplin," said Mildred. "Come on, boy, take us up in the elevator. What's the number of our room? I want to write my name in the register myself."
Her exasperated parents, already goaded by a long journey cooped in a compartment with their difficult urchin, made a joint move toward her, but at that moment Romsteck piloted in two footmen with trays of cocktails and caviar sandwiches. Mildred eluded the punitive grasp, skipped briskly across the room and seized one of the glasses.
"Gee, I'm thirsty," she cried, and drained it. "Why do they wear short pants?"
"Mildred!" exclaimed her father furiously.
