"Didn't Count Keller provide a conveyance for them?" she demanded peremptorily, hoping that her words would reach that worthy. "They must be sent for instantly."
There were sounds of carriage wheels in the courtyard below.
"Wait," cried Bertha; "there they are at last!" She handed the servant a small gold coin. "For the driver; let him keep the change."
The footman withdrew with a broad smile. No doubt he robbed the cabman of half the generous tip.
Torrents of "Ohs!" and "Ach Gotts!" when the Essen contingent came in. They had waited more than half an hour for the expected royal carriage, and then in despair took the only public vehicle available.
Bertha's tirewoman inspected the apartment while giving vent to her outraged feelings. "Darling Fraulein can never sleep in that bed. It's as hard as rocks."
"I know," said Bertha. "But what is to be done?"
"I will send Fritz to fetch in the car your own bed, all except the frame," decided the tirewoman after reflection.
"But wouldn't that be an insult to my hosts?" Bertha asked.
"Rubbish! The late Queen Victoria always carried her bed along, even when she came to visit her own daughter in Berlin. Besides, we can plead doctor's orders," said Frau Martha; and when the heiress still seemed doubtful she added: "On my own responsibility, of course; you don't know anything about it. The Baroness will back me up, I'm sure."