“And Milton says that Paradise is lost,” whispered Nell. Her head rested on the King’s shoulder. She looked up–the picture of perfect happiness–into his eyes.
“Not while Nell loves Charles,” he said.
“And Charles remembers Nell,” her voice answered, softly.
Meanwhile, the rotund landlord had entered unobserved; and a contrast he made, indeed, to the endearing words of the lovers as at this instant he unceremoniously burst forth in guttural accents with:
“The bill! The bill for supper, sir!”
Nell looked at the King and the King looked at Nell; then both looked at the landlord. The lovers’ sense of humour was boundless. That was their first tie; the second, their hearts.
“The bill!” repeated Nell, smothering a laugh. “Yes, we were just speaking of the bill.”
“How opportune!” exclaimed Charles, taking the cue. “We feared you would forget it, sirrah.”
“See that it is right,” ejaculated Nell.
The King glanced at the bill indifferently, but still could not fail to see “3 chickens” in unschooled hand. His eyes twinkled and he glanced at the landlord, but the latter avoided his look with a pretence of innocence.