"Note? Note?" he said, bewildered, "what--oh, you mean the Stiff Note to the King of Barodia? I'm just planning it, my love. The exact shade of stiffness, combined with courtesy, is a little difficult to hit." "I shouldn't be too courteous," said Hyacinth; "he came over eighteen more times after you'd gone." "Eighteen, eighteen, eight--my dear, it's outrageous." "I've never had such a crowded breakfast before." "It's positively insulting, Hyacinth. This is no occasion for Notes. We will talk to him in a language that he will understand." And he went out to speak to the Captain of his Archers. CHAPTER II THE CHANCELLOR OF BARODIA HAS A LONG WALK HOME Once more it was early morning on the castle walls. The King sat at his breakfast table, a company of archers drawn up in front of him. "Now you all understand," he said. "When the King of Baro--when a certain--well, when I say 'when,' I want you all to fire your arrows into the air. You are to take no aim; you are just to shoot your arrows upwards, and--er--I want to see who gets highest. Should anything--er--should anything brush up against them on their way--not of course that it's likely--well, in that case--er--in that case something will--er--brush up against them. After all, what _should?_" "Quite so, Sire," said the Captain, "or rather, not at all." "Very well. To your places." Each archer fitted an arrow to his bow and took up his position. A look-out man had been posted. Everything was ready. The King was decidedly nervous. He wandered from one archer to another asking after this man's wife and family, praising the polish on that man's quiver, or advising him to stand with his back a little more to the sun. Now and then he would hurry off to the look-out man on a distant turret, point out Barodia on the horizon to him, and hurry back again. The look-out knew all about it. "Royalty over," he bellowed suddenly. "When!" roared the King, and a cloud of arrows shot into the air. "Well done!" cried Hyacinth, clapping her hands. "I mean, how could you? You might have hurt him." "Hyacinth," said the King, turning suddenly; "you here?" "I have just come up. Did you hit him?" "Hit who?" "The King of Barodia, of course." "The King of---- My dear child, what could the King of Barodia be doing here? My archers were aiming at a hawk that they saw in the distance." He beckoned to the Captain. "Did you hit that hawk?" he asked. "With one shot only, Sire. In the whisk--in the tail feathers." The King turned to Hyacinth. "With one shot only in the whisk--in the tail feathers," he said. "What was it, my dear, that you were saying about the King of Barodia?" "Oh, Father, you are bad. You hit the poor man right in the whisker." "His Majesty of Barodia! And in the whisker! My dear child, this is terrible! But what can he have been doing up there? Dear, dear, this is really most unfortunate. I must compose a note of apology about this."