This was not his place!
It seemed to be his fate, that he should always do the wrong thing!
His worst enemy was, indeed—himself!
The meal dragged on, drearily, and interminably, it seemed now, to the King.
Would it never end?
At last, the parlour-maid put the decanters on the table, and withdrew, finally, from the room.
A moment later, Uncle Bond stood up, glass in hand.
"I see no reason why we should not drink our usual toast, Judith," he said. "On the contrary, I think there is every reason why we should drink it, tonight—
"The King!"
Judith sprang up, and raised her glass in turn.