"There, there!" Granny patted her cheek. "It's all true enough. You've only got to look at Ka-kee-ta and smell that cocoanut oil he pours over his head to know it's true. It makes me more nervous to have him always standing at the front door with his meat ax than it does to be alone with that Tear of God. Protector, indeed! I guess Johnny could protect us all we need protecting. Or Joe Cary! I didn't feel right, Tessie, to go off and leave Joe Cary alone in the old house, but he wouldn't come with us and there wasn't room for Ka-kee-ta there, and so there wasn't anything else to do. And that's another thing that makes me wonder about this new job of yours, Tessie. What kind of a country is it where the queen has to have a man with a meat ax to protect her?"
Tessie laughed and hugged her grandmother again. "Silly old dear!" she said lovingly. "Mr. Douglas explained it all to me. There isn't any necessity now, Granny, or at least he doesn't think there is. It's just a custom. Once upon a time it was necessary, Mr. Douglas said, for the king to have a bodyguard to protect him from his enemies, but now it's probably just a custom. Anyway, I haven't any enemies," she finished triumphantly.
"Gracious, I should hope not! And I hope to goodness Mr. Douglas knows what he's talking about and it is only a custom," grumbled Granny. "It don't sound good to me, but I'm old-fashioned and maybe it's all right. It certainly did make folks stare when we walked into the Evergreen with Ka-kee-ta walking behind us with his meat ax. I guess everybody in the store knew you was somebody with Mr. Kingley and his son and all the clerks a-hanging around!" She laughed happily as she recalled the pleasant experience. "And that lady they called the advertising—what was she doing here last night, Tessie?"
"She came to help me look over my mail." Tessie sighed as she remembered her mail. "I never could have done it alone, Granny."
"You poor child!" sympathized Granny, as she too visualized Tessie's mail, which had been brought to her in a huge clothes-basket.
The publication in the Gazette of the romantic story of the queen who was found in the basement of the Evergreen, had been the signal for an army to take to typewriters and pens, at least it seemed as if it must have taken an army to write the enormous number of letters which had been addressed to Queen Teresa, or to Miss Teresa Gilfooly, Queen, or to Her Majesty, Miss Gilfooly.
There were seventy-three proposals of marriage from men who stated that they were willing to be kings, and that they were strong and fearless and would help Queen Teresa govern her kingdom. There were innumerable letters from automobile dealers, florists, dressmakers, shoemakers, milliners, jewelers, stationers, real estate dealers, railroad and steamship agents, caterers, architects, house decorators, dancing teachers. Indeed every one who was in business in Waloo wasted no time in calling Queen Teresa's attention to the fact and to the knowledge that he was eager to serve her, and the sooner the better.
There were letters from philanthropic organizations asking the queen's patronage for orphanages and old peoples' homes. There were letters from girls who wanted to be singers or dancers, and from boys who wanted to be painters or poets and who asked for loans from the royal treasury. There were letters from people who wanted mortgages raised and doctors paid or victrolas bought.
And here came a boy with another basket filled with mail. It was too provoking. If Tessie read half of them she would have time for nothing else. And after the first basketful, the reading of the letters was a stupid task. You can understand why Tessie looked at them in horror and despair.
"You'll have to get a secretary," grinned Mr. Bill, who had brought Tessie a huge bunch of violets, "or throw them out. They aren't worth reading. Throw them out!"