re to stick up for me. "She's all right,
she is interesting and knows a great deal. She's from
Canada!"

"What!" exclaimed Von der Doppelbauch. "From Canada!
But stop! It seems to me that Canada is a country that
we are at war with. Let me think, Canada? I must look at
my list"--he pulled out a little set of tablets as he
spoke--"let me see, Britain, Great Britain, British North
America, British Guiana, British Nigeria--ha! of course,
under K--Kandahar, Korfu. No, I don't seem to see it
--Fritz," he called to the aide-de-camp who had announced
him, "telegraph at once to the Topographical Staff at
Berlin and find out if we are at war with Canada. If we
are"--he pointed at me--"throw her into the Bosphorus.
If we are not, treat her with every consideration, with
every distinguished consideration. But see that she
doesn't get away. Keep her tight, till we _are_ at war
with Canada, as no doubt we shall be, wherever it is,
and _then_ throw her into the Bosphorus."

The aide clicked his heels and withdrew.

"And now, your majesty," continued the Field-Marshal,
turning abruptly to the Sultan, "I bring you good news."

"More good news," groaned Abdul miserably, winding his
clasped fingers to and fro. "Alas, good news again!"

"First," said Von der Doppelbauch, "the Kaiser has raised
you to the order of the Black Dock. Here is your feather."

"Another feather," moaned Abdul. "Here, Toomuch, take it
and put it among the feathers!"

"Secondly," went on the Field-Marshal, checking off his
items as he spoke, "your contribution, your personal
contribution to His Majesty's Twenty-third Imperial Loan,
is accepted."

"I didn't make any!" sobbed Abdul.

"No difference," said Von der Doppelbauch. "It is accepted
anyway. The telegram has just arrived accepting all your
money. My assistants are packing it up outside."

Abdul collapsed still further into his cushions.

"Third, and this will rejoice your Majesty's heart: Your
troops are again victorious!"

"Victorious!" moaned Abdul. "Victorious again! I knew
they would be! I suppose they are all dead as usual?"

"They are," said the Marshal. "Their souls," he added
reverently, with a military salute, "are in Heaven!"

"No, no," gasped Abdul, "not in Heaven! don't say that!
Not in Heaven! Say that they are in Nishvana, our Turkish
paradise."

"I am sorry," said the Field-Marshal gravely. "This is
a Christian war. The Kaiser has insisted on their going
to Heaven."