His Majesty the King sobbed inconsolably, and the heart of Patsie's mother was touched. She drew the child on to her knee. Clearly it was not temper alone. "What is it, Toby? Won't you tell me? Aren't you well?" The torrent of sobs and speech met, and fought for a time, with chokings and gulpings and gasps. Then, in a sudden rush, His Majesty the King was delivered of a few inarticulate sounds, followed by the words:--"Go a--way you--dirty--little debbil!" "Toby! What do you mean?" "It's what he'd say. I _know_ it is! He said vat when vere was only a little, little eggy mess, on my t-t-unic; and he'd say it again, and laugh, if I went in wif vat on my head." "Who would say that?" "M-m-my Papa! And I fought if I had ve blue wiban, he'd let me play in ve waste-paper basket under ve table." "_What_ blue riband, childie?" "Ve same vat Patsie had--ve big blue wiban w-w-wound my t-ttummy!" "What is it, Toby? There's something on your mind. Tell me all about it, and perhaps I can help." "Isn't anyfing," sniffed His Majesty, mindful of his manhood, and raising his head from the motherly bosom upon which it was resting. "I only fought vat you--you petted Patsie 'cause she had ve blue wiban, and--and if I'd had ve blue wiban too, m-my Papa w-would pet me." The secret was out, and His Majesty the King sobbed bitterly in spite of the arms round him, and the murmur of comfort on his heated little forehead. Enter Patsie tumultuously, embarrassed by several lengths of the Commissioner's pet _mahseer_-rod. "Tum along, Toby! Zere's a _chu-chu_ lizard in _ze chick_, and I've told Chimo to watch him till we turn. If we poke him wiz zis his tail will go _wiggle-wiggle_ and fall off. Tum along! I can't weach." "I'm comin'," said His Majesty the King, climbing down from the Commissioner's wife's knee after a hasty kiss. Two minutes later, the _chu-chu_ lizard's tail was wriggling on the matting of the veranda, and the children were gravely poking it with splinters from the _chick_, to urge its exhausted vitality into "just one wiggle more, 'cause it doesn't hurt _chu-chu_." The Commissioner's wife stood in the doorway and watched:--"Poor little mite! A blue sash ... and my own precious Patsie! I wonder if the best of us, or we who love them best, ever understand what goes on in their topsy-turvy little heads." A big tear splashed on the Commissioner's wife's wedding-ring, and she went indoors to devise a tea for the benefit of His Majesty the King. "Their souls aren't in their tummies at that age in this climate," said the Commissioner's wife, "but they are not far off. I wonder if I could make Mrs. Austell understand. Poor little fellow!" With simple craft, the Commissioner's wife called on Mrs. Austell and spoke long and lovingly about children; inquiring specially for His Majesty the King. "He's with his governess," said Mrs. Austell, and the tone intimated that she was not interested.