"Really!" mocked the girl. "I could give ye talk about a real Prince—none of yer Rensselaers or Van Antwerps and the like—had I—"
Armitage leaned forward, but anything more the maid might have been tempted to say was interrupted by a footman from the superintendent's table.
"Mr. Dawson says you 're to come to his table," he said nodding to Armitage, who arose with real reluctance, not because of any desire for intimate knowledge of the servants' hall, but because he had decided he could use the Irish maid to the ends he had in view. Now that lead was closed for the time at least and he took his place at the side of the decorous butler, uncheered by Mr. Dawson's announcement that Miss Wellington had ordered his promotion.
"It was very good of Miss Wellington," he said in a perfunctory manner.
"Oh, not at all," replied the butler. "Frequently the chauffeur sits at our table." He shrugged his shoulders. "It depends upon the manner of men. They are of all sorts and constantly changing."
Armitage glanced at Buchan and grinned.
"Thanks," he said.
The butler nodded and then apropos of some thought passing through his mind he glanced tentatively at the housekeeper.
"We 'll wake up, I suppose, with the Prince here. I hope so. I have never seen everybody in Newport so quiet."
"Yes, I imagine so," replied Mrs. Stetson. "Several are coming the middle of the week and of course you know of the Flower Ball for Friday night."