“It’s very hard to enjoy things with Miss Braithwaite, sir. She does not really enjoy the things I like. Nikky and I—”
“By ‘Nikky’ you mean Lieutenant Larisch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go on.”
“We like the same things, sir—the Pike’s-Peak-or-Bust, and all that.”
The King raised himself on his elbow. “What was that?” he demanded.
Prince Ferdinand William Otto blushed, and explained. It was Bobby’s name for the peak at the top of the Scenic Railway. He had been on the railway. He had been—his enthusiasm carried him away. His cheeks flushed. He sat forward on the edge of his chair, and gesticulated. He had never had such a good time in his life.
“I was awfully happy, sir,” he ended. “It feels like flying, only safer. And the lights are pretty. It’s like fairyland. There were two or three times when it seemed as if we’d turn over, or leap the track. But we didn’t.”
The King lay back and thought. More than anything in the world he loved this boy. But the occasion demanded a strong hand. “You were happy,” he said. “You were disobedient, you were causing grave anxiety and distress—and you were happy! The first duty of a prince is to his country. His first lesson is to obey laws. He must always obey certain laws. A king is but the servant of his people.”
“Yes, sir,” said Prince Ferdinand William Otto.