"Pardon me, Sidney," said the Queen, "but I intend him to marry Miss Heritage."
"Mother!" exclaimed Edna, "Miss Heritage! What can you be thinking of?"
"I know what I am doing, my love. The poor boy is devoted to her and always has been, and, in short, I've decided that he shall have his way. It will be to your advantage that he should."
On reflection Edna saw this. Mirliflor might feel mortified for a time, but there was at least a chance of catching him on the rebound.
When Clarence returned later his entrance was hailed with an interrogatory "Well?" from his family. "Well," he replied, "I interviewed the old King. Told him you couldn't stick my marrying his daughter. He took it very quietly—better than I expected. All he said was that, if you would come to the big fountain in the Palace gardens (it's supplied from the Crystal lake, you know) at sunset, he'd be there and let you know his terms."
"Wants to blackmail us, does he?" said the King. "He won't get a farthing out of me!"
"It is like his impudence," added the Queen. "Still, it may be as well to see him."
And just before the sun's final disappearance, the four stood on the margin of a small artificial lake, from the centre of which a great column of water shot up to a colossal height against the crimson and orange sky.
"He doesn't seem to have kept his appointment," said the King. "Thought better of it, hey?" As he spoke, the tall column sank and resolved itself into a solid grey-green figure of little above the average stature, a long-bearded elderly personage in a flowing mantle which only partially covered his suit of glittering iridescent scales.
"There is the old blighter!" whispered Clarence. "This is my Father and Mother, Sir," he added aloud, "and anything you've got to propose must be settled with them."