“This is a war of machines,” replied His Majesty, graciously.
“I'm a Socialist!” exclaimed Jimmie, right off the bat.
“Indeed!” said His Majesty.
“You bet!” was the reply.
“But you're not one of those Socialists who oppose their country, I see.”
“I done it for a long time,” said Jimmie. “I didn't see we had no business in this here war. But I been changin'—a bit.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” remarked His Majesty. “Doubtless your recent experience has helped you to change.”
“Sure,” replied Jimmie. “But I'm still a Socialist, don't you make no mistake about that, Mr. King.”
“I won't,” said His Majesty; and he looked at the Honourable Beatrice, and between them there flashed one of those subtle messages which highly sophisticated people know how to give and to catch—entirely over the heads of Socialist machinists from Leesville, U.S.A. To the Honourable Beatrice the message conveyed. “How perfectly delicious!” To His Majesty it conveyed, “I knew you'd enjoy it!”
Jimmie's mind was, of course, occupied entirely with the idea of propaganda. He must make the most of this strange opportunity! “Things is goin' to be changed after this here war!” said he. “Fer the workin' people, I mean.”