"Nearly all these circus chaps do, don't they?" said Jodey, who nearly suffered misfortune in a too strenuous desire to preserve his gravity.
"Or as a bare-back rider," said I, taking up the parable.
"One would certainly say a clown," said the Great Lady. "Dear me, what manners!"
The port wine had appeared and had been duly dispensed. At this precise moment Ferdinand the Twelfth was giving the table-cloth a peremptory tap. He rose, glass in hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, my good friends," said he. "I haf one toast to propose. We will drink, if you please, to the health of le bon roi Edouard. God bless him!"
Upon the Chief Constable's extremely prompt initiative the company did not hesitate to follow the Circus Proprietor's lead.
"The King! God bless him!"
This incident, which the Circus Proprietor had invested with such authority that it seemed perfectly in order, nearly led to the undoing of Jodey and his noble friend. Overborne by the emotion of the moment, they indulged in a little side show of their own. The toast of le bon roi Edouard having been honoured in form the rest of the company sat down at once, but our two sportsmen remained upon their feet. Filling up their glasses, they turned towards the illustrious guest and repeated the solemn formula:
"The King. God bless him!"
"Sit down, you asses," said the Chief Constable in a truculent undertone.