, "drive on!"

"But what madame demands is impossible," pleaded the poor man. "I am on
my way for another body. Madame sits in the morgue wagon!"

But there he was mistaken, for madame sat nowhere. Before he had done
speaking madame was flying through the air, alighting on poor Jimmie's
foot, while Bee and I clawed at our dripping skirts in a mad effort to
follow suit.

The morgue wagon pursued its way down the Rue de Rivoli, while we risked
colds, croup, and everything else in an endeavour to find a "_grand
bain_," splashing through puddles but marching steadily on, Jimmie in a
somewhat strained silence limping uncomplainingly at our side.

CHAPTER III

STRASBURG AND BADEN-BADEN

We are on our way to the Passion Play, and although each of the four of
us is a monument of amiability when taken individually, as a quartet we
sometimes clash. At present we are fighting over the route we shall take
between Paris and Oberammergau. Bee and Mrs. Jimmie have replenished
their wardrobes in the Rue de la Paix, and wish to follow the trail of
American tourists going to Baden-Baden, while Jimmie and I, having
rooted out of a German student in the Latin Quarter two or three unknown
carriage routes through the mountains which lead to unknown spots not
double starred, starred, or even mentioned in Baedeker, are wondering
how the battle between clothes and Bohemianism will end.

We arrived at Strasburg still in an amiable wrangle, but all four agreed
on seeing the clock which has made the town famous. Our time was so
limited that there was not, as is often the case, an opportunity for all
four of us to get our own way.

Anybody who did not know her, would imagine by the quiet way that Bee
has let the subject of Baden-Baden alone for the whole day, that she had
quite given up going there, but I know Bee. She has left Jimmie and me
to defend the front of the fortress, while she is bringing all her
troops up in the rear. Bee does not believe in a charge with plenty of
shouting and galloping and noise. Bee's manoeuvres never raise any dust,
but on a flank movement, a midnight sortie or an ambush, Bee could
outgeneral Napoleon and Alexander and General Grant and every other man
who has helped change the maps of the world. Only by indication and past
sad experience do I know what she is up to. One thing to-day has given
me a clue. I have a necktie--the only really saucy thing about the whole
of my wardrobe, the only distingui