“On the contrary, it is only half-done,” was the reply, with an enigmatical smile. “Who would have thought I should become so deeply interested in a matter entered upon so lightly?”
“So lightly—when the future of your kingdom and your own happiness may depend upon the arrangements you are able to make?” cried the Queen, in surprise. “You don’t take things seriously enough, Michael.”
“Possibly not, but sometimes things take me seriously, quite against my will.”
* * * * * * * *
“I would just love to hustle some folks a little!” Maimie was reflecting, much about the same time. “Usk will arrive home in a day or two, and I’d like to have things fixed. I never thought the Baron would have so much grit in him, but the way he fights off a definite declaration is real fine. But Fay is even with him there. What with his precious kingdom, and her engagement, they can’t seem to get on at all. And until they do, I can’t step in as fairy godmother to put things straight.”
While the thought was still in her mind, the door opened violently, and Félicia ran in. Flinging herself upon the sofa, she began to cry, not weeping in the artistic way which had damped Usk’s departure, but shedding genuine tears of disappointment and mortification.
“I’ll never forgive you!” she sobbed out to Maimie. “This is the second time you’ve put me in just the most horrid sort of a position. You had me encourage the Malasorte man until he cooled off of his own accord, and now the King has told me in so many words that he can’t ask me to marry him—after having me say I cared for him. I wouldn’t mind so much but for that.”
“Well, you can marry Usk yet,” was the unsympathetic reply.
“After expecting to be a queen!” fresh sobs followed “He spoke so’s I really concluded it was all safe. And you sit there and say nothing. I hate you!”
“Why?” asked Maimie calmly.