They reached the stairs, took their place in a wherry, and as they leaned back and the waterman tugged at his oars, against tide now, Frank said thoughtfully:
“I say, what would have happened if somebody had pointed us out?”
“We should have been locked up of course, and been taken before the magistrate to-morrow. Then it would all have come out about our being there, and—ha—ha—ha!—the Prince would have had vacancies for two more pages.—I shouldn’t have cared.”
“I should,” said Frank quickly, as he saw in imagination the pained faces of father and mother.
“Well, of course, so should I. Don’t take any notice of what I said. Besides, we can be so useful as we are.”
“How?” said Frank thoughtfully. “It always seems to me that we are but a couple of ornaments, and of no use at all.”
“Ah! wait,” said Andrew quietly. Then, as if feeling that he had been in his excitement letting his tongue run far too fast, he turned to his companion, and said gently:
“You are the son of a gallant officer and a beautiful lady, and I know you would not say a word that would injure a friend.”
“I hope not,” said Frank, rather huskily.
“I’m sure you would not, or I should not have spoken out as I have. But don’t take any notice; you see, a man can’t help talking politics at a time like this. Well, when will you come to the city again?”