Mrs. Carey, in a superb black velvet costume, cut square in front, with a Maltese cross of brilliants resting upon her bosom, swept grandly across the dining hall. She held a small bunch of flowers in her hand. The head waiter of the hotel, bowing almost to the ground, waved her toward the royal table. Everybody in the room paused to gaze at the superb beauty. The master of the household drew back her chair, but she did not stop until she reached the King.
"Sire," she said, with a profound courtesy, "pardon my tardiness, and accept, if you will, these roses in commemoration of your birthday."
The King looked delighted. "Yes, it is my birthday," he answered. "I was afraid you would come too late for the champagne."
Mrs. Carey was about to retire to her seat when the King exclaimed, "Lady Muriel, if it's all the same, I'll get you to change seats with Mrs. Carey. Am I not your sovereign?" he inquired, noticing the glum looks of the outraged maid of honor.
All through the rest of the meal Mrs. Carey and the King whispered together. "I have taken a great liberty," said she at last.
"And what is that? The only liberty that I should object to your taking would be taking yourself away."
"I have invited a party of friends to your drawing-room to-night. I had promised a sweet girl, who seems to have taken an interest in me, to chaperone a theatre party, and she is going to bring her guests here instead. Does this inconvenience your Majesty?"
"Nothing that you could do would inconvenience me," and he gurgled as he drank his champagne.
"She plays her cards well, n'est-ce pas," said Lady Muriel to her new neighbor, Lord Gladstone Churchill.
King George caught her saturnine expression. He turned to the master of the household at his elbow. "Did I not order that Lady Muriel Howard should have only one glass of wine?"