re fatally mixed," retorted my companion.

From across the park sounded Plooie's patient falsetto:
"Parapluie-ee-ee-ee-ees! Annie Oombrella for mend? Parapluie-ee-ee-" The
call broke off in a kind of choke.

"What's happened to Plooie?" I asked. "The youngsters can't have got
back from the parade already, have they?"

"A very tall man has stopped him," said the Bonnie Lassie. "Plooie has
dropped his kit.... He's trying to salute.... It must be one of the
Belgian officers.... Oh, Dominie!"

"Well, what?" I demanded impatiently and cursed the recreant Mendel in
my heart.

"It can't be ... you don't think they can be arresting poor Plooie at
this late day for evading service?"

"Serve him right if they did," said I.

"I believe they are. The big man has taken him by the arm and is leading
him along. Poor Plooie! He's all wilted down. It's a shame!" cried the
Bonnie Lassie, beginning to flame. "It ought not to be allowed."

"Probably they're taking him away. Do you see an official-looking
automobile anywhere about?"

"There's a strange car over on the Avenue. Oh, dear! Poor Annie
Oombrella! But--but they're not going there. They're going into
Schepstein's basement."

I could feel the Bonnie Lassie fidgeting on the bench. For a moment I
endured it. Then I said:

"Well, Lassie, why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Take your usual constitutional, over by the railings. Opposite
Schepstein's."

"That isn't my usual constitutional, and you know it, Dominie," said the
Bonnie Lassie with dignity.

"Isn't it? Well, curiosity killed a cat, you know."

"How shamelessly you garble! It was--"

"Never mind; the quotation is erroneous, anyway. It should be:
_suppressed_ curiosity killed a cat."

The Bonnie Lassie sniffed.

"Rather than be dislodged from my precarious perch on this bench," I
pursued, "through the trembling imparted to it by your clinging to the
back to restrain yourself from going to see what is up, I should almost
prefer that you would go--and peek."

"Dominie," said the Bonnie Lassie, "you are a despicable old man....
I'll be back in a minute."

"Don't stay long," I pleaded. "Pity the blind."

Her golden laughter floated back to me. But there was no mirth in her
voice when she returned.

"It's so dark in there I can hardly see. But the big man is sitting on a
pile of ribs talking to Plooie, and Annie Oombrella's face is all
swollen with crying. I saw it in the window for a minute."

Pr