“Nell, have you no money to stop this heathen’s mouth?” he finally ejaculated, as he caught up his bonnet and tossed it jauntily upon his head.
“Not a farthing,” replied she, sharply. “I was invited to sup, not pay the bill.”
“If the King knew this rascal,” yelled the landlord at the top of his voice, pointing to Charles, “he would be behind the bars long ago.”
This was too much for his Majesty, who broke into the merriest of laughs.
“Verily, I believe you,” he admitted. Then he fell to laughing again, almost rolling off the bench in his glee.
“Master Constable,” wildly repeated the landlord, at the kitchen-door. “Let my new wife alone; they are making off with the house.”
Nell was filled with consternation.
“He’ll raise the neighbourhood, Sire,” she whispered to Charles. “Have you no money to stop this heathen’s mouth?”
“Not even holes in my pockets,” calmly replied the Merry Monarch.
“Odsfish, what company am I got into!” sighed Nell. She ran to the landlord and seized his arm in her endeavour to quiet him.