When we came up they were still rummaging, but had
found nothing.
Bee hurried to the bureau and looked under the mat.
No tie. She asked the two women. They had
not seen it. Then everybody hunted. Jimmie
swore we had packed it. But Bee’s gray
eyes turned to green as she watched the flurried movements
of the two maids. She walked up to them.
“Give me that blue necktie,” she said,
in awful German.
At that Jimmie, who hates a row when it is not of
his own making, interfered and insisted that we must
have packed it—he remembered numbers of
times when we had made a fuss over nothing—it
was of no account anyway, and if we would only come
along and not miss the train he would send back to
Charvet and get Bee another “blaue cravatte.”
“For heaven’s sake, take that man downstairs,”
I said to Mrs. Jimmie, “and let us manage this
affair.”
So poor Jimmie was whisked from the scene of action,
still protesting and gesticulating, and being soothed
but marched steadily onward by his wife.
When we came down we were heated but unsuccessful.
I insisted upon reporting the affair to my friend
the head waiter. He almost went back on his devotion
to me in his assurances that those maids were honest.
Then Jimmie had to come up and interfere, and those
two men decided that we had packed it.
Bee was in a cold ladylike fury.
We gave all the servants double fees to assure them
that meanness had not prompted the search, and got
into the carriage.
“Remember,” said Bee, “I claim that
one of those women has that tie in her pocket now,
because all four of us looked every inch of the rooms
over together. I advise you to have them searched.
On the other hand I will telegraph you from Nuremberg
if I find it in my trunks.”
We had half an hour before the train left. Bee,
who was riding backward, kept looking out down the
road whence we had come with a curious expression
on her face. Jimmie, in spite of warning pressures
from his wife’s foot, kept sputtering about
women’s poor memories, etc. Bee didn’t
even seem to hear.
Presently, in a cloud of dust, up drove one of the
men from the hotel, with a little package in his hand.
“Blaue cravatte,” he said, bowing.
“Where did you find it?” demanded Mrs.
Jimmie.
“Between the mattress and the springs of the
bed. Madame must have put it there to press it.”
Jimmie looked sheepish and put us into the train with
a red face. Bee simply slipped the tie into her
satchel and put on her travelling-cap without a word,
and began to read. Bee never nags or crows.
So much for Baden-Baden.
STUTTGART, NUREMBERG, AND BAYREUTH
We had planned to go to Stuttgart next, but as we
were nearing the town, Bee pushed up her veil and
said:
