CHAPTER XXVIII
A silence of acute embarrassment was happily broken by Mr. Marks. Saluting, he said:
“If Hi may make so bold before ’Is ’Ighness—there’ll be no ’oldin’ Mrs. Marks w’en she hears of ’Is ’Ighness a-jumpin’ on my ’ead, she bein’ hambitious.”
Mrs. Witherby, who felt dissatisfied with the opportunities accorded her hitherto for impressing His Highness with her character as a gentlewoman all Roseborough delighted to honour, settled herself fussily in her chair and began to discourse, with an air of one who has dwelt much, if not in palaces, at least around the corner.
“Your Highness of course is only on a little incognito journey—I presume, to study the conditions of humbler folk. Your Highness will shortly return to his throne, with all its royal splendours?”
He bowed, and in a manner more royally aloof than he had used before—a manner that proclaimed the crowned Ruler—he condescended to converse with her.
“We left our throne somewhat suddenly, because our royal splendours had rather wearied us. Conceive, my dear madam, of having one’s every step attended by a score of uniformed menials. Conceive of the infinite ceremony of—let us say—boot-lacing, under the royal system. Contrast it with the ease and privacy with which you, for instance, draw on your fine prunella boots. You are alone. You sit. There is the difficult stoop to bring the boot and the foot into friendly focus. Then the valiant tussle, the gasp, perhaps the stitch in the side—if the weather is warm, the drop of moisture—and the thing is accomplished.”
Mrs. Witherby twitched as if she were about to protest sharply, but a cold, lofty look and gesture restrained her.
“If Hi may make so bold as to s’y so, ’Is ’Ighness is a wonderful ’and to describe things. Hi can see ’er doin’ of it,” Officer Marks snickered reverentially, “beggin’ ’Is ’Ighness’s pardon.”