"Oh, let's see; the parson, Governor Hansen, Watchmaker Rordam and Dr. Knap—oh yes, and Prois, of course, as Warden."
"What, old Prois?"
"Yes, and he was quite cut up about it too. Said he was too old for such tomfoolery."
It was a busy time all round for the loyal citizens of Strandvik; and the worst of it was, they had only three days to make all arrangements. The royal party would arrive on Thursday at four o'clock and dine in the town. And to-day was Monday.
The committee held meetings morning and afternoon. A band was asked for by telegram from the naval station at Horten, and a special cook from Drammen; both, fortunately, promised to come.
A triumphal arch was set up at the Custom House, and Nachmann, the German wine merchant, sent up four cart-loads of bottles to the Town Hall, where the banquet was to be held. Nachmann was in high feather, and declared loyally that a Royal House was an excellent institution and an encouragement to trade and commerce.
But what was the King to drive in? Consul Jansen had a very respectable pair-horse carriage of his own, lined with grey silk, and suitable for most "special occasions," but unfortunately one of the horses was lame, and the other a confirmed runaway. What was to be done?
Lt. Heidt had just got a new mount, but so miserably emaciated a beast that one could almost see daylight through its ribs. There was no possibility of using such a bag of bones for such a purpose.
Finally, the choice fell upon Baker Ottosen's black mare, a famous beauty. But one mare's not a pair; there was nothing for it but to take Governor Hansen's old "Swift," so called from the fact of its never on any occasion exceeding the easiest amble. It was hoped that the close proximity of the mare would liven it up a little.
For three whole days Aslaksen of the livery stables practised the pair up and down through the streets, to the great edification of the urchins, who ran after the carriage shouting and cheering.