“Oh, damn Johnson! Dorothy, I beg your pardon, but really, this daughter of mine, combined with that Johnson of yours, is just a little more than I can bear.”
“Then what are we to do?” demanded his daughter. “Sit here with folded hands?”
“That would be a great deal better than what you propose. You should do something sane. You mustn’t involve a pair of friendly countries in war. Of course the United States would utterly disclaim your act, and discredit me if I were lunatic enough to undertake such a wild goose chase, which I’m not; but, on the other hand, if two of our girls undertook such an expedition, no man can predict the public clamor that might arise. Why, when the newspapers get hold of a question, you never know where they will end it. Undoubtedly you two girls should be sent to prison, and, with equal undoubtedness, the American people wouldn’t permit it.”
“You bet they wouldn’t,” said Katherine, dropping into slang.
“Well, then, if they wouldn’t, there’s war.”
“One moment, Captain Kempt,” said Dorothy, again in her mildest tones, for voices had again begun to run high, “you spoke of doing something sane. You understand the situation. What should you counsel us to do?”
The Captain drew a long breath, and leaned back in his chair.
“There, Dad, it’s up to you,” said Katherine. “Let us hear your proposal, and then you’ll learn how easy it is to criticise.”
“Well,” said the Captain hesitatingly, “there’s our diplomatic service—”
“Utterly useless: one man is a Russian, and the other an Englishman. Diplomacy not only can do nothing, but won’t even try,” cried Kate triumphantly.