There was still no love lost between Archy and his two girl cousins, but their nimble tongues were silenced by Archy's generosity towards Langton, who was the family darling. It must be admitted that Archy took rather mean advantage of this, and when he received a long letter from Paul Jones, the lives of Mary and Isabel were made miserable by his chaff and jeers. Langton had to hear the whole story of their infatuation for Paul Jones, which lost nothing in Archy's telling, and made Langton laugh for a week; and when the letter by some untoward accident was lost, Archy declined to be convinced that Mary and Isabel had not cribbed it for a keepsake.
So several weeks passed in the gloomy old mansion, which Archy disrespectfully called an old rattle-trap. But they were not gloomy weeks to any one in it. For the first time in his life Lord Bellingham was surrounded by those who should be nearest and dearest to him, and he found life a very different and far pleasanter thing than when he had been at war with his whole family. His daughter's kind attentions added to his comfort, and his four handsome grandchildren were a source of infinite pride to him—and pride meant pleasure to Lord Bellingham. Parliament was to meet on the 5th of December, and Lord Bellingham determined to attend in his peer's robes and coronet, according to the custom of the times.
The day was dull and gloomy outside, but Archy Baskerville thought it the happiest and brightest day that had ever yet shone upon him, for the King, in his speech from the throne, was to acknowledge the independence of the American colonies.
About ten o'clock on that morning the family coach was at the door, and Colonel Baskerville, Archy, and Langton awaited Lord Bellingham to drive to the House of Lords. When he appeared in his scarlet robes, and carrying his coronet in his hand, something very like a smile appeared upon the countenances of his brother and his two grandsons. Archy mentally congratulated himself that he would never have to appear in such a rig, and even whispered as much to Langton. Lord Bellingham was in a very bad humor as the result of his trailing robes and troublesome coronet, but nothing could damp Archy's enthusiasm.
"We shall be mobbed," fretfully exclaimed Lord Bellingham. "This young gentleman here will probably begin huzzaing out of the coach window for the colonies, and God knows what will befall us then!"
"I'll take care of all of you, grandfather," magnanimously declared Archy, which only increased the Earl's irritation, and Archy proceeded to fan the flame by remarking that he supposed the King, too, was in a very bad humor that morning.
And so he was. When, amid a death-like stillness in the House of Lords, the King rose to read his speech to Parliament assembled, he gave every indication of agitation and embarrassment. He proceeded falteringly until he announced the cessation of the American war, and then, attempting to utter the sentence, "I offer to declare them free and independent States," he broke down completely, and, after a painful and agitated silence, with a distressing effort read the fateful words.
Archy was squeezed in a corner of the gallery close by Colonel Baskerville, who kept a keen watch upon him to check any characteristic outbreak of enthusiasm, and was actually enabled to prevent it until the tedious but imposing proceedings were over. Outside the Houses of Parliament a vast crowd was assembled. There were a few cheers for the King's speech, but most of the multitude accepted the tremendous event in solemn silence. As Archy came out with the surging crowd he suddenly shouted out a long and loud "Huzza!" but the next moment Colonel Baskerville had clapped his hand over Archy's mouth, had hustled him into the coach, and they were driving off, Lord Bellingham scowling in the corner seat. But Langton, shaking Archy's hand cordially, cried out:
"Congratulations, Archy. We shall yet live to glory in our kin beyond the sea."