"How did you know it was Davis?" asked the colonel, blindly feeling his way.
Mrs. Kenton picked up her Almanach de Gotha. "It has all the consular and diplomatic corps in it."
"I won't laugh at it any more," said the colonel, humbly. "Weren't you—uneasy, Bessie?"
"No. I mended away, here, and fussed round the whole afternoon, putting the trunks to rights; and I got out this dress and ran a bit of lace into the collar; and then I ordered dinner, for I knew you'd bring the captain; and I took a nap, and by that it was nearly dinner-time."
"Oh!" said the colonel.
"Yes; and the head-waiter was as polite as peas; they've all been very attentive. I shall certainly recommend everybody to the Kaiserin Elisabeth."
"Yes," assented the wretched man. "I reckon it's about the best hotel in Vienna."
"Well, now, go and get Captain Davis. You can bring him right in here; we're only travellers. Why, what makes you act so queerly? Has anything happened?" Mrs. Kenton was surprised to find herself gathered into her husband's arms and embraced with a rapture for which she could see no particular reason.
"Bessie," said her husband, "I told you this morning that you were amiable as well as bright and beautiful; I now wish to add that you are sensible. I'm awfully ashamed of being gone so long. But the fact is we had a little accident. Our sleigh broke down out in the country, and we had to walk back."
"Oh, you poor old fellow! No wonder you look tired."