“Are you aware to what high destiny the Fates have called you?” said he, laughing. “Some attain fortune by being first to seek her,--_you_, on the contrary, win by dallying. We had decided, a few moments before you came in, that the first lady who entered should be the Queen of our party,--this lot is yours.” “I beg to correct you, Mr. Cashel,” cried Lady Janet, smartly; “Miss Meek entered before her Ladyship.” “Oh, yes!” “Certainly!” “Without a doubt!” resounded from the whole company, who were not sorry to confer their suffrages on the madcap girl rather than the fashionable beauty. “How distressing!” sighed Mr. Meek. “Oh, dear! I hope this is not so,--nay, I 'm sure, Jemima, it cannot be the case.” “You're thinking of George Colman, Meek,--I see you are,” cried Linton. [Illustration: 026] “No, indeed; no, upon my honor. What was it about Colman?” “The story is everybody's story. The Prince insisted once that George was his senior, and George only corrected himself of his mistake by saying that 'he could not possibly have had the rudeness to enter the world before his Royal Highness.'” “Ah! yes--very true--so it was,” sighed Meek, who-affected not to perceive the covert sneer at his assumed courtesy. While, therefore, the party gathered around Cashel, with eager assurance of Miss Meek's precedence, Lady Kilgoff, rising, crossed the room to where that young lady was standing, and gracefully arranging her loose-flowing ringlets into a knot at the back of the head, fastened them by a splendid comb which she took from her own, and whose top was fashioned into a handsome coronet of gold, saying, “The question of legitimacy is solved forever: the Pretender yields her crown to the true Sovereign.” The gracefulness and tact of this sudden movement called forth the warmest acknowledgments of all save Lady Janet, who whispered to Miss Kenny feck, “It is pretty clear, I fancy, who is to pay for the crown jewels!” “Am I really the Queen?” cried the young girl, half wild with delight. “Most assuredly, madam,” said Linton, kissing her hand in deep reverence. “I beg to be first to tender my homage.” “That 's so like him!” cried she, laughing; “but you shall be no officer of mine. Where 's Charley? I want to make him Master of the Buckhounds, if there be buckhounds.” “Will you not appoint your ladies first, madam?” said Lady Janet; “or, are your preferences for the other sex to leave us quite forgotten?” “Be all of you everything you please,” rejoined the childish, merry voice, “with Charley Frobisher for Master of the Horse.” “Linton for Master of the Revels,” said some one. “Agreed,” said she. “Mr. Cashel had better be First Lord of the Treasury, I suspect,” said Lady Janet, snappishly, “if the Administration is to last.” “And if ye a'ways wear drapery o' this fashion,” said Sir Andrew, taking up the torn fragment of her riding-habit as he spoke, “I maun say that the Mistress of the Robes will na be a sinecure.”