Faster than he could have hoped, his papers disappeared. Some who bought them looked pityingly at the boy's odd little figure in the short, tight, ragged jacket which he had outgrown, small though he was for his years. They noted how thin and white was the little face, lit up by those eager eyes. But Bert had no pity for himself at that moment. As he dropped the pennies into the pocket of his ragged coat—there was no hole in the pocket; he had seen to that—he felt as proud and elate as a man who is making his fortune. He was getting quite rich, and his riches opened up to him such a joyous prospect. To-morrow he would be off to Hampshire to see the Princess.
There! The last paper had gone. Now he was free to go and see what he could, and take his share in the excitement of the day. He had already decided whither he would turn his steps. From the Marble Arch to Hyde Park Corner was not very far. Bert had been told that here the finest possible view of the procession might be had, and, undeterred by the crowds already pressing in that direction, he too made for this point of vantage.
Although it still wanted more than an hour to the time when the procession was to start, there were thousands of men and women, boys and girls, packed together on the broad pavements. The roadway, too, was blocked with vehicles. The squeezing was intense, the heat stiffing, yet Bert dauntlessly pushed forward into the crowd, and continued to work his way towards the front. He wanted to see what passed, and he would see nothing if he remained at the back of the pavement behind lines and lines of people.
In vain people pushed him back and told him to keep behind. Bert was small and thin and wiry, and he pushed his way through every slightest opening, and got the better of persons bigger than himself with a skill which excited the ire of some and the amusement of others. Yet Bert would have had a poor chance of seeing the procession had not a woman who blocked his way suddenly fallen forward, unconscious from the heat and pressure. Instantly there was a cry for the ambulance officers. Some of these came forward to remove the sufferer, and in the hustling that resulted from the disturbance Bert found himself carried to the very edge of the pavement, close to a mounted constable, who, seeing what a little chap he was, moved his horse a pace or two, so as not to intercept his view.
Just as Bert was congratulating himself on his good luck, there passed before him the stretcher on which the policemen had placed the woman who had swooned. To Bert's consternation, he recognised in the still, purple, apparently lifeless visage of the woman, the face of Mrs. Kay. He uttered a cry, and would have run after the ambulance, had not the mounted constable called to him sharply to come back. Bert watched as the policemen bore their burden across the broad road, now clear of all traffic, for the procession was momentarily expected, to the ambulance station below the arch at the top of Constitution Hill. Poor Mrs. Kay! Was she dead? Had the sun's heat killed her? For Bert had heard of people dying of sunstroke.
But now there rose from the direction of the Green Park the sound of swelling voices raised in joyous acclamation. Louder and louder rose the cries, and with a thrill of strange emotion, which brought tears to his eyes, Bert realized that the supreme moment had arrived. The Queen was coming!
In a few moments, the splendid cavalcade appeared. When the Queen came, attended by her magnificent body-guard of princes, the public enthusiasm knew no bounds. Foreign royalties were all very well; but here was the one whom her people loved, and whom they had gathered in such numbers to greet with every sign of loyalty and rejoicing. Next in interest to the Queen came the members of her family. Bert's shrill little voice had shouted lustily for the Queen; but as the carriages containing the princesses went slowly by he was too lost in admiration of their gentle looks and pretty dresses—the laces and satins and furbelows, which to his childish imagination suggested lives of unlimited luxury and enjoyment—to think of cheering.
"There's princesses for you!" he said to himself. "They're the real thing, they are; and yet if my Princess was rigged up like that, I guess she'd look just as well."
And there passed before his mind a picture of Prin, as she had appeared in her old, shabby frock and broken shoes. Then he remembered how different she had looked when she went away with the nurse.
"But she'll get shabby again when she comes back," he thought with a sigh. "We shall never get enough money to buy nice clothes."