maternal dismay. The President sped out in a flannel nightshirt.
"Gott!" he cried. "Yet anodder attack on Frau Quackenbush?"
The ambassador was shouting inquiry from the bedroom window. He was beginning to wonder whether the post at Farniente might not prove too vivacious for a man of mature years.
"Mildred fell into the moat," explained Nyla to Frau Quackenbush, soothing the sobbing child, and trying to dry her with a handkerchief, "The Colonel saved her."
"De child," yelled Guadeloupe to the anxious parent at the window. "He fell drunk in de moat. But not dead drunk," he hastened to reassure. "Gott be tank, I feared it was anodder case for de billiards table."
Herr Quackenbush appeared in pyjamas with a blanket, and Frau Innsbruck with a bottle of the 1865 cognac, the universal specific. In the middle of an admiring circle Mildred was given a hasty friction, then blanketed and carried off.
