"Indeed!" said the Chancellor, with affected surprise. "I was not aware of anything so serious and sudden."
"It is not sudden," replied the King, with some sharpness, "I have told you that. It is a matter that has been long in my mind, and in every one else's, but no one has had the courage to speak the first word. Sit down, and be at the pains of writing, while I dictate the form of my notice."
"Shall I bring my papers to this end of the room?" asked the Chancellor maliciously.
"No," cried the King in great vexation, "I will go to my usual place." He had hardly been aware of it, but now he was highly annoyed to find that instead of taking his chair before the founder's hearth, he had been sitting at the other end of the library under the picture of the King and the Beggar-Maid, and all he could do to conceal his annoyance was to dictate his notice with unusual severity as follows:—
"His Majesty.—To call attention to the growing power and lawlessness of the beggars within the Liberties of St. Lazarus, and to lay certain considerations before the Council for the necessity of immediate steps being taken in regard thereto."
The Chancellor wrote as he was told, placed the order in his portfolio without a word, and then stood up waiting to be dismissed. Kophetua looked at his snarling face for a moment, as though to detect what was passing there, and then, turning on his heel with a shrug, waved dismissal to his Minister. Turbo went straight to the door in silence, but before he reached it the King's voice stopped him.
"Turbo!" said he frankly, "stay! What ridiculous farce is this we are playing?"
It was always an understood signal between them, that when the King called the Chancellor by his name they were to be on their old footing of governor and pupil. It was no longer a monarch who spoke to his Minister, but two old friends who chatted together. So Turbo limped back and sat down carelessly by the hearth.
"I really cannot tell," he answered coolly; "I was taking my cue from you."