At last this golden time came to an end, for in walked the Colonel and Master Freake to supper.
"I am thankful," said the Colonel to Margaret. "Murray told me you'd been taken to jail."
"You heard the news with great content, I suppose," said Margaret.
"I did, because--" He stopped to frown into the snuff-box.
"Because of what? Pray observe, gentlemen, what an affectionate father I have!"
"Because he also told me the name of your jailer!"
"You don't deserve to have a daughter," declared Margaret, with such a pretence of vehemence that her cheeks, between and beneath her coils of yellow hair, blazed like two poppies in a wheat-shook.
"I've made up for it by deserving something even better, and that's a good supper. Pull the bell, Oliver!"
Arrived in the great chamber at Exeter House, we found Charles making his last stand. Feeling ran riot; there was little regard for the regentship of the Prince; true to itself to the end, the Stuart cause was dying in a babel of broken counsels.