King Prigio had gone to a distant part of his dominions, on business of importance, and the young people were sitting in the royal study. The letter, which Ricardo handed to Jaqueline, was written on a great broad sheet of paper, folded up without any envelope, as
was the custom then, and was sealed with a huge seal in red wax.
“I don’t know the arms,” Ricardo said.
“Oh, Ricardo, how you do neglect your Heraldry! Old Green Stocking is in despair over your ignorance.”
Now Green Stocking was the chief herald of Pantouflia, just like Blue Mantle in England.
“Why, these are the Royal Arms of England, you great ignorant Dick!”
“But Rome isn’t in England, is it?—and the post-mark is ‘Roma’: that’s Rome in some lingo, I expect. It is in Latin, anyhow, I know. Mortuus est Romæ—‘He died at Rome.’ It’s in the Latin Grammar. Let’s see what the fellow says, anyhow,” added Ricardo, breaking the seal.
“He begins, ‘Prins and dear Cousin!’ I say, Jaqueline, he spells it ‘Prins;’ now it is P-r-i-n-c-e. He must be an ignorant fellow!”
“People in glass houses should not throw stones, Dick,” said Jaqueline.
“He signs himself ‘Charles, P. W.,’” said Ricardo, looking at the end. “Who on earth can he be? Why does he not put ‘P. W. Charles,’ if these are his initials? Look here, it’s rather a long letter; you might read it to us, Jack!”