The worthy Bayswater vicar was chatting with Mrs Edmondson in his usual clerical drawl, when the Prince’s sudden appearance caused him to look up. Then turning to her again, he exclaimed:
“Oh, here’s Prince Albert! I knew him quite well when I was British chaplain in Hanover,” and crossing to his Highness he shook hands heartily, adding in the next breath: “I wonder if your Highness would allow me to present to you my friend here, Mrs Edmondson?”
“Delighted, I’m sure,” replied the younger man bowing before the rather stout, dark-haired lady, whose blatant pomposity crumpled up instantly, and who became red and white in turns.
The introduction had been effected so suddenly that the relict of Thomas Edmondson, Esquire, J.P., D.L., of Milnthorpe Hall, near Whitby, had been taken completely off her feet—or “off her perch,” as the merry cleric afterwards jocosely put it. She knew Mr Clayton to be a most superior person, but had no idea of his intimate acquaintance with princes of the blood-royal.
She succeeded in stammering some conventional expressions of pleasure at being presented, and then lapsed into ignominious silence.
“Mrs Edmondson has kindly expressed herself very interested in my poor parish,” explained the Parson, “just as your Highness has been interested. I wrote to you a month ago to Aix-les-Bains, thanking you for your generous donation towards our Children’s Holiday Fund. It was really extremely kind of you.”
“Oh, don’t mention it, Mr Clayton,” replied his Highness. “I’ve been in your parish twice, remember, and I know well how very hard you work, and what a number of the deserving poor you have. I’m just going down in the town for a stroll. Perhaps I’ll see you after lunch? Come to my room for a smoke.”
And then, bowing to the obese widow, he replaced his grey felt hat and strode out.
“What a very charming man!” declared the widow when she recovered herself sufficiently to speak. “So he has been to your parish!”
“Oh, yes. He gives me most liberal donations,” answered Clayton in a low tone of confidence. “But he always prefers to remain anonymous, of course. He has been my best friend for years. I had no idea he was in England. He wrote me last from Aix.”