Blackie? And a couple of those with the flaky crust and
the custard between, and a slice of that fluffy-looking cake and some of
those funny cocked-hat shaped cookies--"

But a pall of bewilderment was slowly settling over Rosie's erstwhile
smiling face. Her plump shoulders went up in a helpless shrug, and she
turned her round blue eyes appealingly to Blackie.

"Was meint sie alles?" she asked.

So I began all over again, with the assistance of Blackie. We went
into minute detail. We made elaborate gestures. We drew pictures of our
desired goodies on the marble-topped table, using a soft-lead pencil.
Rosie's countenance wore a distracted look. In desperation I was about
to accompany her to the crowded shop, there to point out my chosen
dainties when suddenly, as they would put it here, a light went her
over.

"Ach, yes-s-s-s! Sie wollten vielleicht abgeruhrter Gugelhopf haben, und
auch Schaumtorte, und Bismarcks, und Hornchen mit cream gefullt, nicht?"

"Certainly," I murmured, quite crushed. Roschen waddled merrily off to
the shop.

Blackie was rolling a cigarette. He ran his funny little red tongue
along the edge of the paper and glanced up at me in glee. "Don't
bother about me," he generously observed. "Just set still and let the
atmosphere soak in."

But already I was lost in contemplation of a red-faced, pompadoured
German who was drinking coffee and reading the Fliegende Blatter at a
table just across the way. There were counterparts of my aborigines
at Knapf's--thick spectacled engineers with high foreheads--actors and
actresses from the German stock company--reporters from the English
and German newspapers--business men with comfortable German
consciences--long-haired musicians--dapper young lawyers--a giggling
group of college girls and boys--a couple of smartly dressed women
nibbling appreciatively at slices of Nusstorte--low-voiced lovers whose
coffee cups stood untouched at their elbows, while no fragrant cloud of
steam rose to indicate that there was warmth within. Their glances grow
warmer as the neglected Kaffee grows colder. The color comes and goes in
the girl's face and I watch it, a bit enviously, marveling that the old
story still should be so new.

At a large square table near the doorway a group of eight men were
absorbed in an animated political discussion, accompanied by much waving
of arms, and thundering of gutturals. It appeared to be a table of
importance, for the high-backed bench