"We will try to find you something better than gray Dobbin, if even we cannot promise you the Godolphin blood," answered Lavendale pleasantly. "If the frost grows no harder, the hounds will meet on Flamestead Common early on Boxing Day; but I fear you will have a good many of the rabble out that morning to follow on foot."
"O, I do not mind the rabble. I am a Republican, and admire old Noll Cromwell better than any hero in history, though he was hardly personable enough for me to be in love with his shade. It has always been a wonder to me that we did not make an end of kings and queens altogether when good Queen Anne died. Instead of making all that fuss about Settlement and Succession, the Whigs should have taken the government into their own hands, elected Robert Walpole as their head, and carried on the affairs of the nation as easily as the Lord Mayor manages the City. Was ever anything so preposterous as to send for an elderly German, who knew not one word of our language, to rule over us, just because he was a lineal descendant of King James I.?"
"O, but we couldn't get on without a king," cried Mrs. Asterley. "I love the look of the King's gilt coach and eight, or his gilt chair, with six footmen walking in front, and a body of soldiers behind. 'Tis one of the prettiest sights in London. And would you have no Drawing-rooms, and no birthnight balls, and no illuminations, and no trumpeters, and no beefeaters, when the King goes to the play?"
"We should get on just as well without any such raree-shows," said Mrs. Lydia contemptuously. "Give me a Roman Forum and Consuls elected by the people."
"Nay, child, I'm sure the Romans were no better off than we are, from anything I can hear of their Neros and their Caligulas," protested the Dowager; "and I quite agree with Mrs. Asterley that a Court is an indispensable institution. We must have somebody to make a fuss about, and though I allow that Germans are mostly savages, I am sure Queen Caroline is the nicest woman I know."
"Say that she is a great deal too good for her boorish husband, and we will all be of one mind with you," said Lady Judith; and then there was a move to the saloon, where every one clustered round the table, and where tea, coffee, chocolate, cakes, and toast were discussed with considerable gusto by people who had dined at two o'clock.
Judith was altogether the queen of the friendly little party. Lavendale helped her to take off the great sable-bordered pelisse, and she emerged from her furs in a gown of black brocade, which intensified the dazzling whiteness of neck and arms, and a black satin petticoat embroidered with silver. Her only ornament was a large diamond cross, tied round her neck with a broad black ribbon, but the diamonds were as magnificent as any to be seen in London.
"Was it not that cross which the Queen wore at her coronation?" asked Lady Polwhele, screwing up her wrinkled eyelids to peer across the table at the gems.
"I believe this was one of the trifles which her Majesty did me the honour to wear on that occasion," answered Judith carelessly.
"I wonder she gave it back to you; I wouldn't, if I'd been Queen of England. You should have sued me for it."