“Oh yes, of course!” I replied.
“Where is it then?” persisted his Majesty.
“I believe all of the regalia is kept carefully locked up and guarded in the Tower of London,” I said.
“Well, I think it’s very unkind of them not to let her Majesty have them out on an occasion like this. I shall see what I can do about it.”
The dear Wallypug’s intentions were evidently so good that I did not say anything in reply to this, though I wondered to myself whatever his Majesty thought that he could do in the matter.
There were so many people about that we considered it best to spend the rest of the day quietly at home, though we did venture out in the evening to see the illuminations, which delighted his Majesty exceedingly.
The next afternoon the whole party, with the exception of One-and-Nine, drove over the route taken by the procession, in order to see the street decorations. I remained at home, and late in the afternoon there was a knock at my door, and General Mary Jane entered. She was nervously wringing a handkerchief wet with tears, and her eyes were quite red with weeping.
“Please, sir,” she began, sniffing pathetically, “I want to gi—gi—give no—notice.”
“Why! what ever for?” I asked in surprise, for General Mary Jane was an excellent servant, and Mrs. Putchy had always been very pleased with her.
“Please, sir, it’s Sergeant One-and-Nine; he’s broken my ’art, sir, and I can’t bear it no longer,” and the poor girl burst into a flood of tears.