"Damn your oracle of Delphi, you old rascal," cried the Prince, with great good-humour. "That's a crumb of the mouldy bread of learning you used to cram down my throat in the old days. It makes Master Wheatman writhe to hear it. The only advantage I ever got out of being a Prince was that old Tom here never dared thrash me for gulping up his rubbish." "Master Wheatman knows Latin enough to stock a couple of bishops, sir," said the Colonel. "The devil he does!" said Charles admiringly. "He'll come in handy for writing me a letter to His Holiness." "It's not such bad stuff as all that, sir," said I, glad of a chance of saying something, for I had been hurt to the quick by talk that reminded me of how I had quizzed Jack's classics in Old Comfit's entry. "To come back to the Colonel's advice," said Charles. "I've split 'em up and now I'm going to smash 'em in detail. We're not going back, sirs, if I can help it. Master Wheatman,"--and here he naturally and unaffectedly took on a princely tone--"we appoint you our assistant aide-de-camp, and desire your attendance on our person during the day, under the more immediate authority of our excellent friend, Colonel Waynflete." At a sign from the Colonel, which I was lucky enough to see the meaning of, I dropped on my knee before the Prince. "Thank you, Master Wheatman," said Charles, in his ordinary frank way, when I rose. "You're worth a hundred rats like young Maclachlan." I coloured, partly with the praise and partly because I was wondering how many Smite-and-spare-nots I was worth. I was then closely questioned about the lie of the land to the south of Stafford and Derby. After a long consultation, the Prince dismissed me, with a gracious invitation to be one of the Royal party at dinner, promising me, with a sly smile, that the company should be to my liking. The Colonel and I withdrew. In the corridor he put me in charge of an upper servant of the household, and went to see to Sultan. My new acquaintance was an elderly man of a solemn, soapy aspect, set off by a sober black livery and a neat wig. He took me up to a bedroom, and saw to my comfort. "William, or whatever it is," I began. "William it is, sir," said he. "Do I look like an assistant aide-de-camp to a prince?" He took stock of me, from my dirty boots to my bare head, and then said solemnly, "No, sir!" "William," said I, "but that's precisely what I am." "Yes, sir," he replied. "Therefore this is precisely your opportunity, William." "Yes, sir," said he.