The boy grasped all this as he moved toward the table, and then stood waiting respectfully for his Royal Highness to speak.
But some minutes elapsed, during which the boy’s heart beat heavily, and he stood watching the Prince, as he kept on dipping his pen in the ink and signed some of the papers by him, and drew the pen across others.
Frank would have given anything for a look of encouragement from the Princess; but she sat with her face still turned away, reading. At last!
The Prince looked up sharply, as if he had just become aware of the boy’s presence, and said in rather imperfect English: “Well, my boy!”
Frank, who had felt so manly the previous night and that morning, was the schoolboy again, completely taken aback, and for a few moments stood staring blankly at the inquiring eyes before him. Then, as the Prince raised his brows as if about to say, “Why don’t you speak?” the boy said hurriedly:
“Your Royal Highness sent for me.”
“Sent for you? No—oh yes, I remember. Well, sir, what excuse have you to make for yourself?”
“None, your Highness,” said the boy firmly.
“Humph! Defiant and obstinate?”
Frank shook his head. He could not trust himself to speak.