“Did you get your other honour, Jenny?” asked Lady Fisher, as she helped herself to the cake.
“Madam?” asked Jenny, in some doubt.
“Why, the jewel His Majesty sent you. I was something inclined to doubt Featherstone might forget it.”
“Oh yes, madam, I thank you for asking, I have it quite safe. It was a vast surprise to me, and most kind and gracious of His Majesty.”
“Well, now I think it was very ungracious in His Majesty,” said Lady Fisher, laughing. “I am sure he ought to have sent it to Millicent here, who reckoned him a Roundhead and an assassin to boot, if he meant to show how forgiving he could be to his enemies.”
“Oh!” cried Millicent, clasping her hands, “shall I ever forget how the dear King took me by the hand? To think of having touched the hand of His Sacred Majesty—”
“Hold, Millicent! that’s a new story,” said Lady Fisher. “Last time I heard you tell it, that horrid creature, Will Jackson, only offered to take you by the hand. Has he got it done by now?”
Millicent looked slightly confused, but speedily recovered herself.
“O madam, I think he touched me. I do think I had the honour of touching His Gracious Majesty’s little finger, I really do!”
“Really do, by all means, if it makes you happier; I’ve no objection. Jenny, I shall eat up all your cake. It is fit to be set before the Queen. Millicent, I wonder you can find in your heart to wash your hands.”