Their eyes met, but experience had taught her caution. “Go on. There are no rajahs in America, and you will do as I tell you.”
“That is very true, but we are too far apart.”
“And all the while you are crowding me off this trunk!”
“Yes, but at the same time I am holding you on. Do you see that old rocking-chair over there with one arm that is beckoning to us?”
There followed a brief, illogical discussion, then finally a gentle force was used by the stronger party, and a moment later the old chair groaned beneath a heavier burden than it had borne for thirty years.
After persistent urging the reminiscences were continued. “They always helped me first at table, no matter how old the other guests were, or how many or how swell. The bowing and saluting was much more elaborate toward me than toward anyone else, and in processions they always stuck me in front. Shortly after my father died there was a grand ceremony in a sort of courtyard with awnings over us, and I remember what an everlasting affair it was, and how my uncle and an old general stood behind my chair, while all the swells and panjandrums came up and saluted me, then passed along. I should say there might have been a million. I know I went to sleep and my uncle kept tapping me on the shoulder to keep me awake.”
“You poor little thing! But you must really have been something tremendously important, mustn’t you?”
“It seems so.”
“Well, go on.”
“After that there were some big reviews, and I sat on a white pony with officers in a semicircle behind me, while the troops marched by, and the generals and colonels all saluted. That was great fun. And I shall never forget my saddle of crimson leather with the gold trimmings.”