CROWNED HEADS
Katie had never been more surprised in her life than when the seriousyoung man with the brown eyes and the Charles Dana Gibson profilespirited her away from his friend and Genevieve. Till that moment shehad looked on herself as playing a sort of 'villager and retainer' partto the brown-eyed young man's hero and Genevieve's heroine. She knewshe was not pretty, though somebody (unidentified) had once said thatshe had nice eyes; whereas Genevieve was notoriously a beauty,incessantly pestered, so report had it, by musical comedy managers togo on the stage.
Genevieve was tall and blonde, a destroyer of masculine peace of mind.She said 'harf' and 'rahther', and might easily have been taken for anEnglish duchess instead of a cloak-model at Macey's. You would havesaid, in short, that, in the matter of personable young men, Genevievewould have swept the board. Yet, here was this one deliberatelyselecting her, Katie, for his companion. It was almost a miracle.
He had managed it with the utmost dexterity at the merry-go-round. Withwinning politeness he had assisted Genevieve on her wooden steed, andthen, as the machinery began to work, had grasped Katie's arm and ledher at a rapid walk out into the sunlight. Katie's last glimpse ofGenevieve had been the sight of her amazed and offended face as itwhizzed round the corner, while the steam melodeon drowned protestswith a spirited plunge into 'Alexander's Ragtime Band'.
Katie felt shy. This young man was a perfect stranger. It was true shehad had a formal introduction to him, but only from Genevieve, who hadscraped acquaintance with him exactly two minutes previously. It hadhappened on the ferry-boat on the way to Palisades Park. Genevieve'sbright eye, roving among the throng on the lower deck, had singled outthis young man and his companion as suitable cavaliers for theexpedition. The young man pleased her, and his friend, with the brokennose and the face like a good-natured bulldog, was obviously suitablefor Katie.
Etiquette is not rigid on New York ferry-boats. Without fuss or delayshe proceeded to make their acquaintance--to Katie's concern, for shecould never get used to Genevieve's short way with strangers. The quietlife she had led had made her almost prudish, and there were times whenGenevieve's conduct shocked her. Of course, she knew there was no harmin Genevieve. As the latter herself had once put it, 'The feller thattries to get gay with me is going to get a call-down that'll make himholler for his winter overcoat.' But all the same she could notapprove. And the net result of her disapproval was to make her shy andsilent as she walked by this young man's side.
The young man seemed to divine her thoughts.
'Say, I'm on the level,' he observed. 'You want to get that. Right onthe square. See?'
'Oh, yes,' said Katie, relieved but yet embarrassed. It was awkward tohave one's thoughts read like this.
'You ain't like your friend. Don't think I don't see that.'
'Genevieve's a sweet girl,' said Katie, loyally.
'A darned sight too sweet. Somebody ought to tell her mother.'
'Why did you speak to her if you did not like her?'
'Wanted to get to know you,' said the young man simply.
They walked on in silence. Katie's heart was beating with a rapiditythat forbade speech. Nothing like this very direct young man had everhappened to her before. She had grown so accustomed to regardingherself as something too insignificant and unattractive for the noticeof the lordly male that she was overwhelmed. She had a vague feelingthat there was a mistake somewhere. It surely could not be she who wasproving so alluring to this fairy prince. The novelty of the situationfrightened her.
'Come here often?' asked her companion.
'I've never been here before.'
'Often go to Coney?'
'I've never been.'
He regarded her with astonishment.
'You've never been to Coney Island! Why, you don't know what this sortof thing is till you've taken in Coney. This place isn't on the mapwith Coney. Do you mean to say you've never seen Luna Park, orDreamland, or Steeplechase, or the diving ducks? Haven't you had a lookat the Mardi Gras stunts? Why, Coney during Mardi Gras is the greatestthing on earth. It's a knockout. Just about a million boys and girlshaving the best time that ever was. Say, I guess you don't go out much,do you?'
'Not much.'
'If it's not a rude question, what do you do? I been trying to place youall along. Now I reckon your friend works in a store, don't she?'
'Yes. She's a cloak-model. She has a lovely figure, hasn't she?'
'Didn't notice it. I guess so, if she's what you say. It's what theypay her for, ain't it? Do you work in a store, too?'
'Not exactly. I keep a little shop.'
'All by yourself?'
'I do all the work now. It was my father's shop, but he's dead. Itbegan by being my grandfather's. He started it. But he's so old nowthat, of course, he can't work any longer, so I look after things.'
'Say, you're a wonder! What sort of a shop?'
'It's only a little second-hand bookshop. There really isn't much todo.'
'Where is it?'
'Sixth Avenue. Near Washington Square.'
'What name?'
'Bennett.'
'That's your name, then?'
'Yes.'
'Anything besides Bennett?'
'My name's Kate.'
The young man nodded.
'I'd make a pretty good district attorney,' he said, disarming possibleresentment at this cross-examination. 'I guess you're wondering if I'mever going to stop asking you questions. Well, what would you like todo?'
'Don't you think we ought to go back and find your friend andGenevieve? They will be wondering where we are.'
'Let 'em,' said the young man briefly. 'I've had all I want of Jenny.'
'I can't understand why you don't like her.'
'I like you. Shall we have some ice-cream, or would you rather go onthe Scenic Railway?'
Katie decided on the more peaceful pleasure. They resumed their walk,socially licking two cones. Out of the corner of her eyes Katie castswift glances at her friend's face. He was a very grave young man.There was something important as well as handsome about him. Once, asthey made their way through the crowds, she saw a couple of boys lookalmost reverently at him. She wondered who he could be, but was too shyto inquire. She had got over her nervousness to a great extent, butthere were still limits to what she felt herself equal to saying. Itdid not strike her that it was only fair that she should ask a fewquestions in return for those which he had put. She had alwaysrepressed herself, and she did so now. She was content to be with himwithout finding out his name and history.
He supplied the former just before he finally consented to let her go.
They were standing looking over the river. The sun had spent its force,and it was cool and pleasant in the breeze which was coming up theHudson. Katie was conscious of a vague feeling that was almostmelancholy. It had been a lovely afternoon, and she was sorry that itwas over.
The young man shuffled his feet on the loose stones.
'I'm mighty glad I met you,' he said. 'Say, I'm coming to see you. OnSixth Avenue. Don't mind, do you?'
He did not wait for a reply.
'Brady's my name. Ted Brady, Glencoe Athletic Club,' he paused. 'I'm onthe level,' he added, and paused again. 'I like you a whole lot. There'syour friend, Genevieve. Better go after her, hadn't you? Good-bye.' Andhe was gone, walking swiftly through the crowd about the bandstand.
Katie went back to Genevieve, and Genevieve was simply horrid. Cold andhaughty, a beautiful iceberg of dudgeon, she refused to speak a singleword during the whole long journey back to Sixth Avenue. And Katie,whose tender heart would at other times have been tortured by thishostility, leant back in her seat, and was happy. Her mind was far awayfrom Genevieve's frozen gloom, living over again the wonderfulhappenings of the afternoon.
Yes, it had been a wonderful afternoon, but trouble was waiting for herin Sixth Avenue. Trouble was never absent for very long from Katie'sunselfish life. Arriving at the little bookshop, she found Mr Murdoch,the gla
zier, preparing for departure. Mr Murdoch came in on Mondays,Wednesdays, and Fridays to play draughts with her grandfather, who wasparalysed from the waist, and unable to leave the house except whenKatie took him for his outing in Washington Square each morning in hisbath-chair.
Mr Murdoch welcomed Katie with joy.
'I was wondering whenever you would come back, Katie. I'm afraid theold man's a little upset.'
'Not ill?'
'Not ill. Upset. And it was my fault, too. Thinking he'd be interested,I read him a piece from the paper where I seen about these EnglishSuffragettes, and he just went up in the air. I guess he'll be allright now you've come back. I was a fool to read it, I reckon. I kindof forgot for the moment.'
'Please don't worry yourself about it, Mr Murdoch. He'll be all rightsoon. I'll go to him.'
In the inner room the old man was sitting. His face was flushed, and hegesticulated from time to time.
'I won't have it,' he cried as Katie entered. 'I tell you I won't haveit. If Parliament can't do anything, I'll send Parliament about itsbusiness.'
'Here I am, grandpapa,' said Katie quickly. 'I've had the greatesttime. It was lovely up there. I--'
'I tell you it's got to stop. I've spoken about it before. I won't haveit.'
'I expect they're doing their best. It's your being so far away thatmakes it hard for them. But I do think you might write them a verysharp letter.'
'I will. I will. Get out the paper. Are you ready?' He stopped, andlooked piteously at Katie. 'I don't know what to say. I don't know howto begin.'
Katie scribbled a few lines.
'How would this do? "His Majesty informs his Government that he isgreatly surprised and indignant that no notice has been taken of hisprevious communications. If this goes on, he will be reluctantlycompelled to put the matter in other hands."'
She read it glibly as she had written it. The formula had been afavourite one of her late father, when roused to fall upon offendingpatrons of the bookshop.
The old man beamed. His resentment was gone. He was soothed and happy.
'That'll wake 'em up,' he said. 'I won't have these goings on while I'mking, and if they don't like it, they know what to do. You're a goodgirl, Katie.'
He chuckled.
'I beat Lord Murdoch five games to nothing,' he said.
It was now nearly two years since the morning when old Matthew Bennetthad announced to an audience consisting of Katie and a smoky blue cat,which had wandered in from Washington Square to take pot-luck, that hewas the King of England.
This was a long time for any one delusion of the old man's to last.Usually they came and went with a rapidity which made it hard forKatie, for all her tact, to keep abreast of them. She was not likely toforget the time when he went to bed President Roosevelt and woke up theProphet Elijah. It was the only occasion in all the years they hadpassed together when she had felt like giving way and indulging in thefit of hysterics which most girls of her age would have had as a matterof course.
She had handled that crisis, and she handled the present one with equalsmoothness. When her grandfather made his announcement, which he didrather as one stating a generally recognized fact than as if theinformation were in any way sensational, she neither screamed norswooned, nor did she rush to the neighbours for advice. She merely gavethe old man his breakfast, not forgetting to set aside a suitableportion for the smoky cat, and then went round to notify Mr Murdoch ofwhat had happened.
Mr Murdoch, excellent man, received the news without any fuss orexcitement at all, and promised to look in on Schwartz, the stoutsaloon-keeper, who was Mr Bennett's companion and antagonist atdraughts on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and, as he expressedit, put him wise.
Life ran comfortably in the new groove. Old Mr Bennett continued toplay draughts and pore over his second-hand classics. Every morning hetook his outing in Washington Square where, from his invalid's chair,he surveyed somnolent Italians and roller-skating children with his oldair of kindly approval. Katie, whom circumstances had taught to bethankful for small mercies, was perfectly happy in the shadow of thethrone. She liked her work; she liked looking after her grandfather;and now that Ted Brady had come into her life, she really began to lookon herself as an exceptionally lucky girl, a spoilt favourite ofFortune.
For Ted Brady had called, as he said he would, and from the very firsthe had made plain in his grave, direct way the objects of his visits.There was no subtlety about Ted, no finesse. He was as frank as amusic-hall love song.
On his first visit, having handed Katie a large bunch of roses with thestolidity of a messenger boy handing over a parcel, he had proceeded,by way of establishing his _bona fides_, to tell her all abouthimself. He supplied the facts in no settled order, just as theyhappened to occur to him in the long silences with which his speech waspunctuated. Small facts jostled large facts. He spoke of his morals andhis fox-terrier in the same breath.
'I'm on the level. Ask anyone who knows me. They'll tell you that. Say,I got the cutest little dog you ever seen. Do you like dogs? I've neverbeen a fellow that's got himself mixed up with girls. I don't like 'emas a general thing. A fellow's got too much to do keeping himself intraining, if his club expects him to do things. I belong to the GlencoeAthletic. I ran the hundred yards dash in evens last sports there was.They expect me to do it at the Glencoe, so I've never got myself mixedup with girls. Till I seen you that afternoon I reckon I'd hardlylooked at a girl, honest. They didn't seem to kind of make any hit withme. And then I seen you, and I says to myself, "That's the one." Itsort of came over me in a flash. I fell for you directly I seen you.And I'm on the level. Don't forget that.'
And more in the same strain, leaning on the counter and looking intoKatie's eyes with a devotion that added emphasis to his measuredspeech.
Next day he came again, and kissed her respectfully but firmly, makinga sort of shuffling dive across the counter. Breaking away, he fumbledin his pocket and produced a ring, which he proceeded to place on herfinger with the serious air which accompanied all his actions.
'That looks pretty good to me,' he said, as he stepped back and eyedit.
It struck Katie, when he had gone, how differently different men didthings. Genevieve had often related stories of men who had proposed toher, and according to Genevieve, they always got excited and emotional,and sometimes cried. Ted Brady had fitted her with the ring more like aglover's assistant than anything else, and he had hardly spoken a wordfrom beginning to end. He had seemed to take her acquiescence forgranted. And yet there had been nothing flat or disappointing about theproceedings. She had been thrilled throughout. It is to be supposedthat Mr Brady had the force of character which does not require the aidof speech.
It was not till she took the news of her engagement to old Mr Bennettthat it was borne in upon Katie that Fate did not intend to be sowholly benevolent to her as she supposed.
That her grandfather could offer any opposition had not occurred to heras a possibility. She took his approval for granted. Never, as long asshe could remember, had he been anything but kind to her. And the onlypossible objections to marriage from a grandfather's point ofview--badness of character, insufficient means, or inferiority ofsocial position--were in this case gloriously absent.
She could not see how anyone, however hypercritical, could find a flawin Ted. His character was spotless. He was comfortably off. And so farfrom being in any way inferior socially, it was he who condescended.For Ted, she had discovered from conversation with Mr Murdoch, theglazier, was no ordinary young man. He was a celebrity. So much so thatfor a moment, when told the news of the engagement, Mr Murdoch,startled out of his usual tact, had exhibited frank surprise that thegreat Ted Brady should not have aimed higher.
'You're sure you've got the name right, Katie?' he had said. 'It'sreally Ted Brady? No mistake about the first name? Well-built,good-looking young chap with brown eyes? Well, this beats me. Not,' hewent on hurriedly, 'that any young fellow mightn't think himself luckyto get a wife like you,
Katie, but Ted Brady! Why, there isn't a girlin this part of the town, or in Harlem or the Bronx, for that matter,who wouldn't give her eyes to be in your place. Why, Ted Brady is thebig noise. He's the star of the Glencoe.'
'He told me he belonged to the Glencoe Athletic.'
'Don't you believe it. It belongs to him. Why, the way that boy runsand jumps is the real limit. There's only Billy Burton, of theIrish-American, that can touch him. You've certainly got the pick ofthe bunch, Katie.'
He stared at her admiringly, as if for the first time realizing hertrue worth. For Mr Murdoch was a great patron of sport.
With these facts in her possession Katie had approached the interviewwith her grandfather with a good deal of confidence.
The old man listened to her recital of Mr Brady's qualities in silence.Then he shook his head.
'It can't be, Katie. I couldn't have it.'
'Grandpapa!'
'You're forgetting, my dear.'
'Forgetting?'
'Who ever heard of such a thing? The grand-daughter of the King ofEngland marrying a commoner! It wouldn't do at all.'
Consternation, surprise, and misery kept Katie dumb. She had learned ina hard school to be prepared for sudden blows from the hand of fate,but this one was so entirely unforeseen that it found her unprepared,and she was crushed by it. She knew her grandfather's obstinacy toowell to argue against the decision.
'Oh, no, not at all,' he repeated. 'Oh, no, it wouldn't do.'
Katie said nothing; she was beyond speech. She stood there wide-eyedand silent among the ruins of her little air-castle. The old man pattedher hand affectionately. He was pleased at her docility. It was theright attitude, becoming in one of her high rank.
'I am very sorry, my dear, but--oh, no! oh, no! oh, no--' His voicetrailed away into an unintelligible mutter. He was a very old man, andhe was not always able to concentrate his thoughts on a subject for anylength of time.
So little did Ted Brady realize at first the true complexity of thesituation that he was inclined, when he heard of the news, to treat thecrisis in the jaunty, dashing, love-laughs-at-locksmith fashion sopopular with young men of spirit when thwarted in their loves by theinterference of parents and guardians.
It took Katie some time to convince him that, just because he had thelicence in his pocket, he could not snatch her up on his saddle-bow andcarry her off to the nearest clergyman after the manner of youngLochinvar.
In the first flush of his resentment at restraint he saw no reason whyhe should differentiate between old Mr Bennett and the conventionalbanns-forbidding father of the novelettes with which he was accustomedto sweeten his hours of idleness. To him, till Katie explained theintricacies of the position, Mr Bennett was simply the proudmillionaire who would not hear of his daughter marrying the artist.
'But, Ted, dear, you don't understand,' Katie said. 'We simply couldn'tdo that. There's no one but me to look after him, poor old man. Howcould I run away like that and get married? What would become of him?'
'You wouldn't be away long,' urged Mr Brady, a man of many parts, butnot a rapid thinker. 'The minister would have us fixed up inside ofhalf an hour. Then we'd look in at Mouquin's for a steak and fried,just to make a sort of wedding breakfast. And then back we'd come,hand-in-hand, and say, "Well, here we are. Now what?"'
'He would never forgive me.'
'That,' said Ted judicially, 'would be up to him.'
'It would kill him. Don't you see, we know that it's all nonsense, thisidea of his; but he really thinks he is the king, and he's so old thatthe shock of my disobeying him would be too much. Honest, Ted, dear, Icouldn't.'
Gloom unutterable darkened Ted Brady's always serious countenance. Thedifficulties of the situation were beginning to come home to him.
'Maybe if I went and saw him--' he suggested at last.
'You _could_,' said Katie doubtfully.
Ted tightened his belt with an air of determination, and bit resolutelyon the chewing-gum which was his inseparable companion.
'I will,' he said.
'You'll be nice to him, Ted?'
He nodded. He was the man of action, not words.
It was perhaps ten minutes before he came out of the inner room inwhich Mr Bennett passed his days. When he did, there was no light ofjubilation on his face. His brow was darker than ever.
Katie looked at him anxiously. He returned the look with a sombre shakeof the head.
'Nothing doing,' he said shortly. He paused. 'Unless,' he added, 'youcount it anything that he's made me an earl.'
In the next two weeks several brains busied themselves with thesituation. Genevieve, reconciled to Katie after a decent interval ofwounded dignity, said she supposed there was a way out, if one couldonly think of it, but it certainly got past her. The only approach to aplan of action was suggested by the broken-nosed individual who hadbeen Ted's companion that day at Palisades Park, a gentleman of someeminence in the boxing world, who rejoiced in the name of the TennesseeBear-Cat.
What they ought to do, in the Bear-Cat's opinion, was to get the oldman out into Washington Square one morning. He of Tennessee would thensasshay up in a flip manner and make a break. Ted, waiting close by,would resent his insolence. There would be words, followed by blows.
'See what I mean?' pursued the Bear-Cat. 'There's you and me mixing it.I'll square the cop on the beat to leave us be; he's a friend of mine.Pretty soon you land me one on the plexus, and I take th' count. Thenthere's you hauling me up by th' collar to the old gentleman, and mesaying I quits and apologizing. See what I mean?'
The whole, presumably, to conclude with warm expressions of gratitudeand esteem from Mr Bennett, and an instant withdrawal of the veto.
Ted himself approved of the scheme. He said it was a cracker-jaw, andhe wondered how one so notoriously ivory-skulled as the other couldhave had such an idea. The Bear-Cat said modestly that he had 'emsometimes. And it is probable that all would have been well, had it notbeen necessary to tell the plan to Katie, who was horrified at the veryidea, spoke warmly of the danger to her grandfather's nervous system,and said she did not think the Bear-Cat could be a nice friend for Ted.And matters relapsed into their old state of hopelessness.
And then, one day, Katie forced herself to tell Ted that she thought itwould be better if they did not see each other for a time. She saidthat these meetings were only a source of pain to both of them. Itwould really be better if he did not come round for--well, quite sometime.
It had not been easy for her to say it. The decision was the outcome ofmany wakeful nights. She had asked herself the question whether it wasfair for her to keep Ted chained to her in this hopeless fashion, when,left to himself and away from her, he might so easily find some othergirl to make him happy.
So Ted went, reluctantly, and the little shop on Sixth Avenue knew himno more. And Katie spent her time looking after old Mr Bennett (who hadcompletely forgotten the affair by now, and sometimes wondered whyKatie was not so cheerful as she had been), and--for, though unselfish,she was human--hating those unknown girls whom in her mind's eye shecould see clustering round Ted, smiling at him, making much of him, anddriving the bare recollection of her out of his mind.
The summer passed. July came and went, making New York an oven. Augustfollowed, and one wondered why one had complained of July's tepidadvances.
It was on the evening of September the eleventh that Katie, havingclosed the little shop, sat in the dusk on the steps, as many thousandsof her fellow-townsmen and townswomen were doing, turning her face tothe first breeze which New York had known for two months. The hot spellhad broken abruptly that afternoon, and the city was drinking in thecoolness as a flower drinks water.
From round the corner, where the yellow cross of the Judson Hotel shonedown on Washington Square, came the shouts of children, and thestrains, mellowed by distance, of the indefatigable barrel-organ whichhad played the same tunes in the same place since the spring.
Katie closed her eyes, and listened. It was ve
ry peaceful this evening,so peaceful that for an instant she forgot even to think of Ted. And itwas just during this instant that she heard his voice.
'That you, kid?'
He was standing before her, his hands in his pockets, one foot on thepavement, the other in the road; and if he was agitated, his voice didnot show it.
'Ted!'
'That's me. Can I see the old man for a minute, Katie?'
This time it did seem to her that she could detect a slight ring ofexcitement.
'It's no use, Ted. Honest.'
'No harm in going in and passing the time of day, is there? I've gotsomething I want to say to him.'
'What?'
'Tell you later, maybe. Is he in his room?'
He stepped past her, and went in. As he went, he caught her arm andpressed it, but he did not stop. She saw him go into the inner room andheard through the door as he closed it behind him, the murmur ofvoices. And almost immediately, it seemed to her, her name was called.It was her grandfather's voice which called, high and excited. The dooropened, and Ted appeared.
'Come here a minute, Katie, will you?' he said. 'You're wanted.'
The old man was leaning forward in his chair. He was in a state ofextraordinary excitement. He quivered and jumped. Ted, standing by thewall, looked as stolid as ever; but his eyes glittered.
'Katie,' cried the old man, 'this is a most remarkable piece of news.This gentleman has just been telling me--extraordinary. He--'
He broke off, and looked at Ted, as he had looked at Katie when he hadtried to write the letter to the Parliament of England.
Ted's eye, as it met Katie's, was almost defiant.
'I want to marry you,' he said.
'Yes, yes,' broke in Mr Bennett, impatiently, 'but--'
'And I'm a king.'
'Yes, yes, that's it, that's it, Katie. This gentleman is a king.'
Once more Ted's eye met Katie's, and this time there was an imploringlook in it.
'That's right,' he said, slowly. 'I've just been telling yourgrandfather I'm the King of Coney Island.'
'That's it. Of Coney Island.'
'So there's no objection now to us getting married, kid--Your RoyalHighness. It's a royal alliance, see?'
'A royal alliance,' echoed Mr Bennett.
Out in the street, Ted held Katie's hand, and grinned a littlesheepishly.
'You're mighty quiet, kid,' he said. 'It looks as if it don't make muchof a hit with you, the notion of being married to me.'
'Oh, Ted! But--'
He squeezed her hand.
'I know what you're thinking. I guess it was raw work pulling a talelike that on the old man. I hated to do it, but gee! when a fellow's upagainst it like I was, he's apt to grab most any chance that comesalong. Why, say, kid, it kind of looked to me as if it was sort of_meant_. Coming just now, like it did, just when it was wanted,and just when it didn't seem possible it could happen. Why, a week agoI was nigh on two hundred votes behind Billy Burton. The Irish-Americanput him up, and everybody thought he'd be King at the Mardi Gras. Andthen suddenly they came pouring in for me, till at the finish I hadBilly looking like a regular has-been.
'It's funny the way the voting jumps about every year in this Coneyelection. It was just Providence, and it didn't seem right to let it goby. So I went in to the old man, and told him. Say, I tell you I wasjust sweating when I got ready to hand it to him. It was an outsidechance he'd remember all about what the Mardi Gras at Coney was, andjust what being a king at it amounted to. Then I remembered you tellingme you'd never been to Coney, so I figured your grandfather wouldn't bewhat you'd call well fixed in his information about it, so I took thechance.
'I tried him out first. I tried him with Brooklyn. Why, say, from theway he took it, he'd either never heard of the place, or else he'dforgotten what it was. I guess he don't remember much, poor old fellow.Then I mentioned Yonkers. He asked me what Yonkers were. Then Ireckoned it was safe to bring on Coney, and he fell for it right away.I felt mean, but it had to be done.'
He caught her up, and swung her into the air with a perfectly impassiveface. Then, having kissed her, he lowered her gently to the groundagain. The action seemed to have relieved his feelings, for when hespoke again it was plain that his conscience no longer troubled him.
'And say,' he said, 'come to think of it, I don't see where there's somuch call for me to feel mean. I'm not so far short of being a regularking. Coney's just as big as some of those kingdoms you read about onthe other side; and, from what you see in the papers about thegoings-on there, it looks to me that, having a whole week on the thronelike I'm going to have, amounts to a pretty steady job as kings go.'
The Man with Two Left Feet, and Other Stories Page 6