“Let’s take them both to a jeweller,” she said.  “We can’t travel with watches which act this way.”

So we left them to be repaired, and as we came out, I said, “It will take us half an hour to get back to the hotel.  Don’t you think we ought to go in somewhere and get just a little something to sustain us?”

“Of course we ought,” she said, in a weak voice.  So we went in and got a light luncheon.  Then we went back to the hotel, intending to lie down and rest after such an arduous day.

“We must not do this again,” I said, firmly.  “Mamma told me particularly not to overdo.”

My companion did not answer.  She was looking at the clock.  It was just noon.

“Why, that clock has stopped too,” she said.

But as we looked into the reading-room that clock struck twelve.  Then it dawned on me, and I dropped into a chair and nearly had hysterics.

“It’s because we are so far north!” I cried.  “Our watches were all right and the sun’s all right.  That is as high as it can get!”

She was too much astonished to laugh.

“And you had to go in and get luncheon because you felt so faint,” she said, in a tone of gentle sarcasm.

“Well, you confessed to a fearful sense of goneness yourself.”

“Don’t tell anybody,” she said.

“I should think not!” I retorted, with dignity.  “I hope I have some pride.”

“Have you presented your letter to the ambassador?” she asked.

“Yes, but it’s so near Christmas that I suppose he won’t bother about two waifs like us until after it’s over.”

“My! but you are blue,” she said.  “I never heard you refer to yourself as a waif before.”

“I am a worm of the dust.  I wish there wasn’t such a thing as Christmas!  I wonder what Billy will say when he sees his tree.”

“You might cable and find out,” she said.  “It only costs about three marks a word.  ’What did Billy say when he saw his tree?’—­nine words—­it would cost you about eight dollars, without counting the address.”

Dead silence.  I didn’t think she was at all funny.

“Don’t you think we ought to have champagne to-morrow?” she asked.

“What for?  I hate the stuff.  It makes me ill.  Do you want it?”

“No, only I thought that, being Christmas, and very expensive, perhaps it would do you good to spend—­”

A knock on the door made us both jump.

“His Excellency the Ambassador of the United States to see the American ladies!”

It was, indeed, Mr. White and Mrs. White, and Lieutenant Allen, the Military Attache!

“Oh, those blessed angels!” I cried, buckling my belt and dashing for the wash-stand, thereby knocking the comb and hand-glass from the grasp of my companion.

They had come within an hour of the presentation of my letter, and they brought with them an invitation from Mrs. Allen for us to join them at Christmas dinner the next day, as Mrs. White said they could not bear to think of our dining alone.