"Ee-e-h," she burbled, "but I can never tell Your 'oly Majesty what I felt when I knew that You was going to let me come and see You. Oh thank You and God bless You, Sir. And I always knew You'ld come to it. And, O 'oly Father, ain't You very 'appy to think of all the good You're doing? Just fancy that ever I should say that to Your 'igh 'oliness and me sitting on one of your own chairs. God bless You Mr. Rose, Sir, as if You was my own boy. Well now, I knew in a minute who it was that sent it me. Why 'oly Father? Why because Your 'oly 'ighness named that very amount years ago as what You'ld give me if You was paid properly. Yes 'oly Father: I've done what You wished me. I got it cheaper than we thought because it's been empty so long. Thirteen 'undred pound cash on the nail for the 'ouse: a 'undred for doing it up: four 'undred and two for furniture and things: and please 'oly Father I've brought the change." She lugged out a great bank-bag containing one hundred and ninety-eight English sovereigns. "Oh but, you dear good soul, you shouldn't have done that. It was all yours." "All mine, 'oly Father? But I tell You I got it cheaper than we thought." "Well then you see you're a hundred and ninety-eight pounds to the good. You have the house and the furniture; and, if you can get the lodgers, you're safe for life." "If I can get lodgers, 'oly Father? Why I'm filled up, and turning them away." "Good! Well, put that in the bank for the winter." "But then I shall have oceans of money I've made in the summer, 'oly Father." "Look here, Mrs. Dixon. Do you remember cooking two dinners one Christmas Day? One, we ate. The other, you carried under your apron to some carpenter who was out of work. Don't you remember who caught you pretending that you weren't spilling the gravy on your frock?" "Oh, Mr. Rose, Sir, how You do recollect things!" "Well now, you stinted yourself then, didn't you?" "Well perhaps a little." "Now don't stint yourself any more; and give away as many dinners as you like. See?" The tears were streaming from her glaring eyes and running down her kitchen-scorched cheeks. She certainly was looking frowsy. "See? I should think I did. Mr. Rose Sir, if I say it to Your face, saint was what I always said of You. Dear! Dear! To think of me giving way like this. Well, well, You're too good for this world, Your Majesty. Oh and I've taken the liberty of bringing you a jar of pickled samphire like what You used to fancy. I've picked it and did it up myself with my own 'ands;--and I thought perhaps You wouldn't mind 'aving this antimacassar which I've worked for You, 'oly Father. I knew all Your 'oly chairs'ld be red, because I've seen pictures of them; and I thought that the grey and the orange would brighten up a dark corner for You." Hadrian thanked her kindly; and took her little offerings as though He prized them more than His tiara; and made her infinitely happy.