The Terror nodded amiably to his uncle and put his hands in his pockets; he wore the detached air of a spectator.
“But if you don’t come of yourself, we shall have to carry you,” said Miss Lambart sternly.
The Terror intervened; he said in his most agreeable tone: “I don’t see how you can. You can’t touch a princess you know. It would be lèse-majesté. She’s told me all about it.”
The perplexity spread from the face of Miss Lambart to the face of Sir Maurice Falconer; he smiled appreciatively. But he said: “Oh, come; this won’t do, Terror, don’t you know! Her highness will have to come.”
“I don’t see how you’re going to get her. The only person who could use force is the prince himself, and I don’t think he could be got up to the knoll. He’s too heavy. I’ve seen him. And if you did get him up, I don’t really think he’d ever find her in these caves,” said the Terror in the dispassionate tone of one discussing an entirely impersonal matter.
“Anyhow, I’m not going,” said the princess with even greater firmness.
Miss Lambart and Sir Maurice gazed at each other in an equal perplexity.
“You see, there isn’t any real reason why she shouldn’t stay here,” said the Terror. “She came to England to improve her health; and she’s improving it ever so much faster here than she did at the Grange. You can see how improved it is. She eats nearly as much as Erebus.”
“She has certainly changed,” said Miss Lambart in a tart tone which showed exactly how little she found it a change for the better.
“The Twins have a transforming effect on the young,” said Sir Maurice in a tone of resignation.