In the course of the morning she made several mysterious inquiries of
her parent regarding nice points of international law as it concerned
murder, and it is probable that he would have been struck by the odd
nature of these questions had he not been unduly excited about another
matter.

"I tell you, we've got to get home!" he announced gloomily. "The German
troops are ready at Aix-la-Chapelle for an assault on Liege. Yes,
sir--they're going to strike through Belgium! Know what that means?
England in the war! Labor troubles; suffragette troubles; civil war in
Ireland--these things will melt winter in Texas. They'll go in. It would
be national suicide if they didn't."

His daughter stared at him. She was unaware that it was the bootblack
at the Carlton he was now quoting. She began to think he knew more about
foreign affairs than she had given him credit for.

"Yes, sir," he went on; "we've got to travel--fast. This won't be a
healthy neighborhood for non-combatants when the ruction starts. I'm
going if I have to buy a liner!"

"Nonsense!" said the girl. "This is the chance of a lifetime. I won't
be cheated out of it by a silly old dad. Why, here we are, face to face
with history!"

"American history is good enough for me," he spread-eagled. "What are
you looking at?"