"He does one's laundry," Raridan replied, "and," looking at his cuffs critically, "he does it rather decently." "There's another side to this," said Saxton to Miss Warren, while Raridan babbled on to the pretty Virginian. "These people have had a terribly hard time of it. They've been through a panic that would have killed an ordinary community; a good many of the nicest of them have had to begin over again; and it's uphill work. It isn't so funny when we consider that these older people have tried their level best to make the wilderness blossom as the rose, and after they'd made a fine beginning the desert repossessed it. There's something splendid in their courage." "Yes, it's hard for us who live on the outside to appreciate it. And they seem such nice people, too." "Don't they! They're big-hearted and plucky and generous! Eastern people don't begin to appreciate the people who do their rough work for them." The other boxes and the gallery had filled, and the main floor was crowded, save where the broad aisle had been maintained down the center from the front door to the stage. A buzz of talk floated over the hall. The band was silent while its leader peered down upon the floor waiting his signal. He turned suddenly and the trumpets broke forth into the notes of a dignified march. All eyes turned to the front of the hall, where the knights, in their robes, preceded by the grand seneschal, bearing his staff of office, were emerging slowly from the outer door into the aisle. When the stage was reached, the procession formed in long lines, facing inward on the steps, making a path through which the governors, who were distinguished by scarlet robes, came attending the person of the king. "All hail the king!" A crowd of knights in evening dress, who were honorary members of the organization and had no parts in costume, sent up the shout. "Hail to Midas!" "Isn't he noble and grand?" shouted Raridan in Miss Marshall's ear. A murmur ran through the hall as Wheaton was recognized; his name was passed to those who did not know him, and everybody applauded. He was really imposing in the robes of his kingship. He walked with a fitting deliberation among his escort. He was conscious of the lights, the applause, the music, and of the fact that he was the center of it all. The cheers were subsiding as the party neared the throne. "I'll wager he's badly frightened," said Raridan to Saxton. "Don't you think it," declared Saxton, "he looks as cool as a cucumber." "Oh, he's cool enough," grumbled Raridan. "You see what envy will do for a man," remarked Saxton to Miss Marshall. "Mr. Raridan's simply perishing because he isn't there himself. But what's this?" The king had reached his throne and faced the audience. All the knights bowed low; the king returned the salutation while the audience cheered. "It's like a comic opera," said Miss Marshall.