Mrs. Witherby, Howard, Corinne, and her cousin, all ran to pull up the nearest chair they could lay their hands on.
“Oh, really—I beg of you. Just one, thank you. Won’t you be seated again?”
Seeing them hastening to obey, Mr. Marks interposed again. He spoke severely.
“Hafter ’Is ’Ighness!”
Heedless of the general awkwardness of four persons, thus sharply arrested in half-sitting postures, the Royal Guard pulled his kerchief out of his coat pocket and dusted the throne, before assisting the prince to seat himself by shoving it against his knee-joints. Then, with a casual gesture, he permitted the others to collapse all the way into their several chairs.
It is customary for royalty, when not incognito, to be discreet and infrequent of utterance. This might explain the silence now maintained by the prince, who had shown himself, earlier in the evening, to be not only talkative but even merry and prankish. His eyes still twinkled occasionally; but he no longer took the initiative in introducing subjects of conversation. He seemed to prefer to follow Mrs. Mearely’s lead. Possibly this was in accordance with some old custom of providing a Talking Woman to do the talking for princes, even as there were once Whipping Boys, who received the princely deserts for bad conduct. He affected not to hear questions, or—murmuring, “Certainly,” or “Oh, to be sure”—he referred the query to his Talking Woman for answer.
“I believe you read, earlier in the evening of Prince Adam’s adventures.” She tapped the Digest with her forefinger.
Corinne, unable to contain herself any longer, cried out:
“Prince! Oh, I’m so glad you came here! But I just felt sure you would. I said so to Mrs. Mearely.” He smiled at her.
Mrs. Witherby’s suspicions were awake again.