“Word from your country,” sententiously he broke out: “My brother’s betrothed! So need I go on with my preparation?” “Put your tie straight! And just look at your socks all tumbling down. Such great jambons of knees!... What will become of you, I ask myself, when you’re a lower boy at Eton.” “How can I be a lower boy when I’m a Prince?” “Probably, the Rev. Ruggles-White, when you enter his House, will be able to explain.” “I won’t be a lower boy! I will _not_!” “Cs, Cs.” “Damn the democracy.” “Fie, sir.” “Down with it.” “For shame.” “Revenge.” “That will do: and now, let me hear your lessons: I should like,” Mrs Montgomery murmured, her eyes set in detachment upon the floor; “the present-indicative tense of the Verb _To be_! Adding the words, Political h-Hostess;--more for the sake of the pronunciation than for anything else.” And after considerable persuasion, prompting, and “bribing,” with various sorts of sweets: “I am a Political Hostess, Thou art a Political Hostess, He is a Political Hostess, We are Political Hostesses, Ye are Political Hostesses, They are Political Hostesses.” “Very good, dear, and only one mistake. _He_ is a Political h-Hostess: Can you correct yourself? The error is so slight....” But alas the prince was in no mood for study; and Mrs Montgomery very soon afterwards was obliged to let him go. Moving a little anxiously about the room, her meditations turned upon the future. With the advent of Elsie a new régime would be established: increasing Britishers would wish to visit Pisuerga; and it seemed a propitious moment to abandon teaching, and to inaugurate in Kairoulla an English hotel. “I have no more rooms. I am quite full up!” she smiled, addressing the silver andirons in the grate. And what a deliverance to have done with instructing unruly children, she reflected, going towards the glass mail-box attached to her vestibule door. Sometimes about this hour there would be a letter in it, but this evening there was only a picture postcard of a field mouse in a bonnet, from her old friend Mrs Bedley. * * * * * “We have _Valmouth_ at last,” she read, “and was it you, my dear, who asked for _The Beard Throughout the Ages_? It is in much demand, but I am keeping it back anticipating a _reply_. Several of the plates are missing I see, among them, those of the late King Edward, and of Assur Bani Pal; I only mention it, that, you may know I shan’t blame you! We are having wonderful weather, and I am keeping pretty well, although poor Mrs Barleymoon, I fear, will not see through another winter. Trusting you are benefiting by the beautiful country air: your obedient servant to command, ANN BEDLEY. “P.S.--_Man, and All About Him_, is rebinding. Ready I expect soon.” * * * * *