"It will delight me much, Mistress Dyke. May I inquire when you intend to honor Mr. Moore by becoming his wife?"
Bessie flushed up prettily and looked at her lover.
"The wedding would take place to-morrow if I could afford it," said Moore, righting the table and brushing it off with his coat-tail.
"Then I take it you cannot afford it?" said his Highness.
"Not just at present," said Moore, cheerily. "I trust your health continues to be of the best, your Highness?"
"I thank you, yes, but I have heard no such singing in my favorite drawing-rooms as when you were wont to frequent the haunts of the beau monde."
"I have been out of town," said Moore, calmly, as Bessie brought the tea to the Prince in a cup which had escaped the general smash-up. The Prince sipped its contents in high good humor.
"Delicious, Mistress Dyke," he declared, "your husband will be a fortunate individual."
"There is but one grief which intrudes itself upon his happiness," said the girl, tremulously, "the disfavor of the Prince, who in his darkest hour won from him both love and gratitude by his generosity."
"Hush, Bessie," said Moore. "His Highness has enough to think of, dearest."