Miss Maude appeared to be racking her brain. I undertook to assist her.

"I mean the second treaty, after the fall of Nuremburg," I explained.

"Oh," she said, instantly relieved. "Was it _really_ signed here, right
here in this hall? Oh, Father! We _must_ have that table."

"You are sure there was a treaty, Maude?" demanded her parent
accusingly.

"Certainly," she cried. "The Teutons ceded Alsace-Lorraine to--"

"Pardon me once more," I cried, and this time I plead guilty to a
blush, "you are thinking of the other treaty--the one at Metz, Miss
Riley-Werkheimer. This, as you will recall, ante-dates that one by--oh,
several years."

"Thank you," she said, quite condescendingly. "I was confused for a
moment. Of course, Father, I can't say that it was signed here or on
this table as the young man says. I only know that there was a treaty.
I do wish you'd come and see the fire-screen I've found--"

"Let's get this out of our system first," said her father. "If you can
show me statistics and the proper proof that this is the genuine table,
young man, I'll--"

"Pray rest easy, sir," I said. "We can take it up later on. The facts
are--"

"And this Pontius Pilate seat," interrupted Rocksworth, biting off the