"Not at all, Sir," she replied; "it isn't really a woman's ornament."

She did not tell him how she knew it was not, for she had not forgotten her undertaking to say nothing about it.

"Well, it was the Mater's," he said. "She's made me promise to wear it always. Thinks it may bring me luck."

"I hope it will, Prince Clarence," she said, quite sincerely; and, as the Queen happened to look back just then and summon her sharply to her side, that was all that pa.s.sed between him and Daphne on that occasion.

She was rather pleased than otherwise that he should be the possessor of the pendant. As has been said, she had never known her father, so there were no tender a.s.sociations attaching to it. And she had been a little afraid that Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson had only bought it out of consideration for her. It was some relief that she had found a use for it. Daphne was, of course, quite unaware who her unknown father had been or that the pendant was a badge of his princely rank; and both the Queen and her son had no suspicion of the truth. Nor did either of them connect it with his suddenly acquired mastery of the whole art of horsemanship, Queen Selina believing that his reports of previous unsuccess had been intended to increase the surprise of his triumph, while Clarence naturally found it easy to persuade himself that he had been learning more from his disheartening failures than he had been conscious of at the time. He certainly did not hide his new talent in a napkin, but organised riding excursions of the lords and ladies of the Royal household, at the head of which he made a very gay and gallant appearance on a prancing bay palfrey. Only there was one thorn in his luxuriously padded saddle. He had hoped that he might have the pleasure of commanding Daphne to ride by his side on these excursions, but, though she accompanied them, it was never on horseback. Queen Selina, it seemed, had developed such a preference for her first lady-in-waiting's society that she was always required to accompany her in the Royal coach.

Daphne would willingly have dispensed with this and other signs of the marked favour with which her Sovereign was overwhelming her just then.

She had no illusions as to the motives. The Queen thought--most mistakenly, as it happened--that making a favourite of Daphne was the surest method of snubbing and annoying her other ladies-in-waiting, for whom she had begun to conceive a hearty dislike.

The dislike was certainly reciprocated. They resented their Royal Mistress's insolence as much as they despised her previous obsequiousness. They accepted the fact that she was their Queen, but, among themselves, they did not pretend any respect for her, as was manifest from their habit of referring to her in private as "Mother Schwellenposch!" Edna, who was scarcely more beloved, was known as "Princess Four-eyes," in allusion to her _pince-nez_. Daphne found it hard at times to refrain from joining them in this irreverence, but, while she saw the Queen's and Edna's weak points as clearly as her companions--and indeed more clearly than any of them--her sense of loyalty kept her silent. She might laugh when she was alone, and frequently did, but that was a relief to her feelings for which she felt she need not reproach herself very severely. Another reason for Queen Selina's insistence on Daphne's company in the coach was, as she was fully aware, the desire to keep her at a safe distance from the Crown Prince--a needless precaution which had its amusing side for her.

Still, she often longed to be on a horse instead of being shut up in a great lumbering vehicle with the Queen and the Princess Royal, even if Princess Ruby's presence did something to make things less dull. On one of these expeditions Queen Selina had once more provided herself with a sack of gold from which she and the Princesses scattered _largesse_.

"_You_ may throw a little if you like, Miss Heritage," said the Queen graciously. (She reserved the t.i.tle "Lady Daphne" for occasions when the Court was present.)

"I'd rather not, your Majesty," she replied. "I mean," she explained, "it's not as if it was _my_ money."

"I should have thought," said Edna, "that that was all the more reason for throwing it away." And as she spoke she flung a handful to a stout old citizen, who glared with indignation--not at her, however, but at the nimbler and needier persons who had grabbed most of the coins before he could stoop to pick them up.

Daphne felt rather ashamed of these proceedings, which seemed to her not merely undignified, but likely to demoralise the public. But she said nothing.

"We're not doing this out of _ostentation_, Miss Heritage," explained the Queen, who seemed to have divined something of her sentiments. "It's policy. You may have noticed that we've not been nearly so well received lately. _Why_, I don't know, unless there's any ill-feeling about those detestable little Gnomes."

There was a good deal. The Gnomes, having no employment on the golf-links, had recently broken out of their compound and found their way into Eswareinmal, where they made themselves very much at home. They quartered themselves on several of the householders, and, having discovered that cooked food was more palatable than earth, they had no diffidence in helping themselves. In other respects they were inoffensive and inclined to be sociable, but, even in Marchenland, the most harmless and playful Yellow Gnome is not considered a desirable addition to any respectable family. The citizens one and all regarded their visitors as intolerable nuisances for which they had to thank their Sovereigns.

"It was his Majesty's idea to free them," the Queen went on. "I was always in favour of keeping them in the mine, where they were out of mischief. And they certainly mustn't be allowed to run about loose any longer. They ought to learn some sort of discipline. Perhaps the best thing would be to train them as Boy Scouts.... Have you caught cold, Miss Heritage? You seem troubled by a most distressing cough."

King Sidney himself had begun to doubt whether the enfranchis.e.m.e.nt of the Yellow Gnomes was quite one of his happiest inspirations. Such Marchenlanders as had been induced to enter the mine were demanding wages which left but a small margin for profit, especially when it was considered that, if their methods of working were more systematic than their predecessors', they somehow got very much less gold. No sacks at all had been delivered of late, and the shelves of the Royal Counting-house were beginning to look ominously bare.

He forced himself to mention this to the Queen after the drive that afternoon, and point out the necessity for being rather more economical than they had been hitherto. "I'm sure, Sidney," she protested, "no one can say _I_ am extravagant! It was absolutely necessary to have the whole Palace done up--I had to order some new dresses, as I couldn't be expected to wear ready-made robes in my position, and one or two tiaras and things from the Court Goldsmith, whose charges certainly were disgracefully high. Then the household expenses come to several sacks a week, try as I _may_ to keep them down!"

"I daresay, my love, I daresay--but I hear there was another sack emptied only this afternoon--and we really can't go on like this!"

"Then I shall have to give up driving out altogether, Sidney. You've no idea how unpopular you've made us all by releasing those wretched little Gnomes. The people object to having to a.s.sociate with them--and I'm sure I don't wonder. You simply _must_ find some way of getting rid of them!"

"The Court Chamberlain tells me a certain number could be taken on the Palace Kitchens as extra scullions."

"And we shall have them getting upstairs and running about all over the Palace!"

"Oh no, my dear; there will be strict orders against that. But, to return to our expenses, I'm afraid Clarence hasn't been as careful as he might have been, and I shall have to speak to him very----"

"No, you will not, Sidney. I won't have you scolding Clarence just when he's doing so well--riding and going out hunting and making himself a social leader. You can give him a hint to be less extravagant if you like--but no more. But the _first_ thing you have to do, is to settle the trouble about those Gnomes. You'd better ask the Marshal if _he_ can suggest anything."

The Marshal's solution was simple but practical. There was, it seemed, a marshy tract at a considerable distance from the capital which needed draining and reclaiming--a work which the more able-bodied of the Gnomes could carry out under strict control. So the majority were deported to the Marchenlands, the remainder being employed in the Royal Kitchens as supernumerary and highly incompetent scullions.

Whether a damp climate would suit the Gnomes' const.i.tutions was not a matter of general concern. Most of them had been supplied with jerseys, which, if they made them look more hideous little objects than ever, had been knitted expressly for them by the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting--and what more could they possibly want?

The citizens of Eswareinmal witnessed the exodus of the gnomes with profound relief, but without any outburst of grat.i.tude to their Sovereign. It had somehow been allowed to transpire that they owed their deliverance entirely to the statesmanship of the ex-Regent.

CHAPTER IX

THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE

King Sidney's remonstrances to Clarence on his extravagances were put in too mild a form to offend. "Perhaps I _have_ got through rather a lot lately," the Crown Prince admitted. "Not that I spend much on myself--precious little chance in a bally place like this. It mostly goes in tips. You see, the peasants about here think anything under a purse of gold stingy. But it certainly struck me the last time I went to the Counting-house that what sacks there were looked a bit flabby. When do you expect some more in?"

"The Lord Treasurer thinks one or two may be delivered in a week or so--but we shall want considerably more than that to pay our way, and I don't see myself where it's to come from."

"I suppose," said Clarence, "it wouldn't quite do to have the gates melted down, or the thrones; but there's any amount of other gold furniture knocking about--what's the matter with coining that?"

"It _did_ occur to me," confessed King Sidney, "but the Court Chamberlain says they're only silver gilt, and that's no good _here_, you know."

"Well," said Clarence, "it's pretty clear that we shall all be in the cart if we can't find some way to raise the wind."

A day or two later he burst into the Royal Parlour where his father was sitting disconsolately alone. "I've found it, Guv'nor," he announced triumphantly.

"Eh, my boy, found, what?"

"The way to raise the wind. I've been in to see little Pop-Eye--_you_ know, the Astrologer Royal."

"Xuriel? I haven't seen him since that--er--match I played with the Marshal."

"I daresay not. The _Marshal_ saw him, though--and he hasn't been fit to be seen in public since. Well, it seems he's been pottering away at Magic all this time on the quiet--and quite lately he's come upon an old spell-book of his father's and tried some of the formulas in it. And he's turned out one little thing that's simply _it_. I bought it of him on the spot. I'll have it brought in here for you to see."

When it was brought it was not much to look at, being just an ordinary round table of the plainest design.

"Ah, but you wait," said Clarence. "Just say to it 'Little table, be laid.'"

"Really, my boy," protested his father, who had evidently forgotten his Grimm's Fairy Tales, "I can't bring myself to----"

"Try it, Guv'nor--and see what happens."

"Oh well, it's all nonsense--all nonsense--but--er--'Little table be laid.'"

Instantly the table was covered with a snowy linen cloth and laid with a daintily prepared meal for one person, including a small flagon of wine and a knife and even a two-p.r.o.nged fork.

"Neat, isn't it?" remarked Clarence. "The little joker wouldn't part with it at first--afraid of getting into more hot water about it."

"I don't suppose for a moment the food's genuine," said the King.

"Well," he p.r.o.nounced, after trying it, "I'm bound to say it's quite tasty--really very tasty indeed. I think I'll have a little more--ate so little at lunch. The wine isn't at all bad either--sort of Moselle flavour. It would be awkward if your mother were to come in just now, eh?"

"If you've done," said Clarence, "all you've got to say is: 'Little table, be cleared.'"

The King repeated the words, and the table became bare as before.