A little more than half-way down the hill Mr. Linker had established a kind of toll-gate through which no car was allowed to pass without the payment of a fee. Some people resented this interference with the freedom of the King's highway, but their protests were futile. They never had time to say much or express their feelings fully, for the pressure of the cars behind drove theirs forward while they were still arguing about their rights. The takings at this toll-gate were enormous. The catering for the multitude--preliminary afternoon tea and cold supper afterwards--was managed by James Hinton. There was, late in the evening, a shortage of ham, tongue and lamb, for the numbers exceeded all expectation. But the cold beef held out until the end and there was no failure of salad. For Mrs. Eames the day was one of unmixed and rapturous delight. Every single part of the performance went without a hitch, exactly as she had planned it. Even the mermaid dance--Mary Lambert and twenty village girls along the margin of the sea--was successful, a surprising thing and highly creditable to every one concerned in it, for it was very difficult to dance gracefully over large, round stones. Sir Evelyn was well pleased with himself and everyone else. His introductory speech, those few words, without which no function of any sort can get started, were taken down by eager reporters, and cheered by all who could hear them and many who could not. He had on one side of him the Chief of his Party, who shook hands with him in warm congratulation when the performance was over, and on the other side, the bishop, who graciously expressed a wish that the whole thing might be done again in the grounds of his palace, fifty miles inland, for the benefit of the cathedral funds. Other eminent men and women who clustered behind him, were fluent in their compliments, which was easy for them, because each one had come with a neat little speech prepared, in case, as each one hoped, such a thing should be required.