Prince Ferdinand William Otto, growing excited, leaned quite out of the window. “What is your dog’s name?” he inquired, in his clear treble.
The man took off his hat and bowed. “Toto, Highness. He is of French origin.”
“He is a very nice dog. I have always wanted a dog like that. He must be a great friend.”
“A great friend, Highness.” He would have expatiated on the dog, but he was uncertain of the etiquette of the procedure. His face beamed with pleasure, however. Then a splendid impulse came to him. This dog, his boon companion, he would present to the Crown Prince. It was all he had, and he would give it, freely, even though it left him friendless.
But here again he was at a loss. Was it the proper thing? Did one do such things in this fashion, or was there a procedure? He cocked an eye at the box of the carriage, but the two men sat impressive, immobile.
Finally he made up his mind. Hat in hand, he stepped forward. “Highness,” he said nervously, “since the dog pleases you, I—I would present him to you.”
“To me?” The Crown Prince’s voice was full of incredulous joy.
“Yes, Highness. If such a thing be permissible.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“He is the best I have, Highness. I wish to offer my best.”