"The King of the Belgians, by George! His secretary offers Tom a commission in the Free State forces, with a very prettily-turned compliment."
"How proud you'll be, Mr. Burnaby!" said Lilian.
"Proud! Not he!" retorted her father. "He won't accept that, or I'm a Dutchman."
"It's a little embarrassing, though," said Tom. "People are very kind. A crib in Nigeria a week ago, then one in Rhodesia, and now one in the Congo Free State!"
"Don't be in a hurry, Tom," said his uncle. "I had a long talk with Underwood of the Foreign Office yesterday. There's some idea of--but I won't give it away. Only I'll say this: that I don't think it'll be either Rhodesia or Nigeria, much less the Congo."
"I'm in no hurry, Uncle; it's very comfortable here, and a few months' rest will do me all the good in the world."
"Really!" returned Sir John, with a significant glance at Lilian. "By the way, I suppose you haven't seen Desjardins' latest article in the Paris Figaro? I have it in my pocket. He's running you for all you're worth--and more--as a world-hero, Tom. Here it is."
He handed a newspaper cutting to Tom. As he replaced a pile of papers in his pocket, a folded sheet fell to the floor. He picked it up, casually opened it, scanned it, and smiled.
"Now I think of it, Barkworth," he said, "we never showed you on the boat the second stanza of the little Frenchman's effusion, did we?"
"Oh, you really mustn't!" cried Lilian, starting up and flushing.