She rambled on, sipping her tea and forgetting her diet to the extent of two more cakes, while George moved in and out among them apparently a model of what a perfect servant could be. “Of course you’ll sing for us,” she demanded of the Prince. “You will inspire my best efforts,” he assured her, looking at Gloria. “And you’ll be sure to have some clever stories, Mr. Riordan.” Evidently every one would have to pay for their entertainment. Ruth wondered if she would be expected to draw. “And the best part of the entertainment is to be a secret.” “I’m afraid it isn’t to most of them,” said Gloria. “Professional pride got the better of George’s discretion and he told Terry and Terry told Ruth.” “What is it?” asked the Prince, evidently fearing a rival attraction. “It’s George,” explained Gloria. “He used to be a music hall magician and he’s going to do his tricks for us.” “Oh!” Prince Aglipogue shrugged his fat shoulders. “You won’t be so scornful when you’ve seen him. He was one of the best and if he hasn’t forgotten he’ll astonish you. George is a Hindoo, you know, and he doesn’t need a lot of props to work with.” “And he is working here as your—as your butler.” It was indeed difficult to classify George. His duties were so numerous and varied. “Yes, Aggie, as my butler, footman, and he will be cook and maid as well, I’m afraid, for Amy has given notice. She’s leaving at the end of the week, unless Ruth can persuade her to stay.” “Why Ruth?” asked Terry. “I don’t know. Servants always have favourites and while George is devoted to me, Amy is devoted to Ruth.” “Devotion? Among servants!” Angela threw out her hands in a despairing gesture and then launched forth on a discussion of servants to which no one paid much attention, with the possible exception of Billie Irwin, who listened to every one on every subject, showing her keen attention to their words by sundry nods, smiles, and shakes of the head. Angela was taking Gloria away with her to dinner and Prince Aglipogue, finally having consumed the last scrap of cake, and convinced that he would not be asked to come with them, took his departure. Billie Irwin went up to her room to rest, Gloria and Angela went away and Terry also departed, leaving Ruth alone. She rather hated these evenings when Gloria was away and she had to dine alone. Amy usually served her on these occasions, George hardly thinking that one person at the table justified his appearance. She was wondering whether she should tell her not to trouble with dinner and go out, when George came in to take away the tea things. Ruth was almost as much afraid of George as Amy, but she nerved herself to speak to him now, because she questioned whether she would again have such a good opportunity. “How is your pet?” she asked. “I beg your pardon,” said George, capturing a glass from the piano and a tea cup from the floor with what looked like one movement. “I mean the snake that you use in your—in your tricks.”