And, Dicky, I don’t want to be a queen––even to get revenge upon the cads who haven’t been nice. I don’t want to rule; it’s more bother than it’s worth; I’m afraid the royal blood has got pretty well thinned out in me, for I don’t feel any thrill stirring within at the war-cry,––only trembles. I want to jog along the same old peaceful path and I want you to come and see me like the dear good friend you’ve always been. And if you’ve got your pockets full of pistols, and your hands full of swords, throw them away, Dicky, and just jump into a carriage and come up and have supper with me. I’ve really been lonesome for you,––more, to be honest, than I thought I’d be or than I like to be. It’s the woman and not the queen who has been lonesome, too. So be a good boy and don’t get either of us into trouble, but bring the general to tea with you. We can fight it all out just as well over the cakes and no one the wiser.
Yours,
Beatrice.”
Wilson smiled.
“I should think,” he said, “that it might be pleasant to––take supper with her.”
Danbury spoke earnestly.
“But a man can’t sit and eat cakes while such as she is insulted on her own streets. A man can’t drink tea with her––he must be up and doing for her. I shall take supper with her when she is a queen in her own kingdom.”
“She doesn’t seem to want to be queen.”
“But she shall,” he exclaimed, “by the grace of God, she shall, within two days!”
He tore open the missive from General Otaballo, and read aloud the instructions. But not until the last paragraph did Wilson learn anything of moment. Then, in a second his whole attitude towards the campaign was changed.