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