playing trumpets on the gravel-sweep!"
"If it's one of those travelling German bands," said his wife, "you'd better send them away at once, Sidney."
But, whoever they were, they had already entered the hall, for almost immediately the drawing-room door was thrown open and two persons wearing tabards and gaily plumed hats entered and sounded another blast.
"'Pon my word, you know," gasped Mr. Stimpson, "this is really – "
The heralds stepped back as a third person entered. He was wearing a rich suit of some long-departed period, and, with his furrowed face and deep-set eyes, he rather resembled an elderly mastiff, though he did not convey the same impression of profound wisdom. He gazed round the room as though he himself were as bewildered as its other occupants, who were speechless with amazement. Then his eye fell on Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, and he hesitated no longer, but, advancing towards her chair, sank with some difficulty on one knee, seized her hand, and kissed it with every sign of deep respect.
"Heaven be praised!" he cried in a voice that faltered with emotion, "I have at last found the Queen we have so long sought in vain!" He spoke with some sort of foreign accent, but they all understood him perfectly. As he knelt they heard a loud crack which seemed to come from between his shoulders.
"Braces given way," whispered Clarence to Edna; "silly old ass to go kneeling in 'em!"
"Really, sir," said Mr. Stimpson, "this is most extraordinary behaviour."
"You don't understand, Sidney," said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, who had recovered from her first alarm and was now in a gratified flutter; "remember what I told you about Lady Harriet and the Pageant! Pray, get up, sir," she added to the stranger, "I haven't the advantage of knowing your name."
"I am the Court Chamberlain," he said, "and my name is Treuherz von Eisenbänden."
It was unknown to Mrs. Stimpson, but she concluded that he was some Anglo-German commercial magnate, who would naturally be invited to join the Committee for any such patriotic purpose as a Pageant.
As to the excessive ceremony of his manner, that was either the proper form for the occasion, or, what was more likely, Mr. Troitz, or whatever his name was, having come fresh from a dress rehearsal, could not divest himself as yet of his assumed character. The important point was that her interview with Lady Harriet had borne fruit already, and in the shape of a pressing invitation to play the distinguished part of "Queen!" The advantages thus offered for obtaining a social footing amongst county people made it easy to overlook any trifling eccentricities where the intention was so obviously serious. "Well, Mr. Troitz," she said graciously, "since the Committee have been kind enough to ask me, I shall be very pleased to be your Queen."
"And if I may say so, Sir," said her husband, "there are few ladies in the vicinity who would prove more competent. In fact – "
"That will do, Sidney," said his wife; "if Lady Harriet and the Committee did not consider me competent to be the Queen they would not have asked me." And Mr. Stimpson said no more.
"Pardon," Mr. Treuherz said, looking at him with solemn surprise, "but – who is this?"
"This is my husband, Mr. Troitz – let me introduce him."
"Your husband. Then, he will be the King!"
"The King?" cried Mr. Stimpson, "why, really, I'm not sure that would be altogether in my line."
"Nonsense, Sidney. Of course you will be the King if they want you! And this is my son, Clarence, Mr. Troitz. My daughters, Edna and Ruby."
"A Crown Prince!" cried Treuherz, and bent low to each in turn. "And two – no, I mistake —three Princesses! Ah, it is too much for me altogether!"
It was almost too much for Ruby, who giggled helplessly, while even Daphne had to bite her lip rather hard for a moment.
"The other young lady," corrected Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, "is merely my daughter Ruby's governess – Miss Heritage. But if you like to find a place for her as one of my ladies of honour or something, I have no objection to her accepting a part," she added, reflecting that Miss Heritage's manners and appearance would add to the family importance, while it would be a comfort to have an attendant who could not give herself such airs as might a girl belonging to a county family.
"Naturally," said Treuherz, inclining himself again. "Any member of your Majesty's household you desire to bring."
"Very well; I suppose, Miss Heritage, you have no objection? Then you will accompany us, please. And now, Mr. Troitz, about when shall we be wanted?"
"When?" he replied. "But now! At once. Already I have the car waiting!"
"Now?" exclaimed Clarence; "rum time to rehearse – what?"
"Who said anything about rehearsing, Clarence?" said his mother impatiently. "It's necessary for them to see us and talk over the arrangements. It's not likely to take long."
"But it'll do later, my love," put in Mr. Stimpson, who did not like the idea of turning out without his dinner. "Fact is, Mr. Troitz, we were just about to sit down to dinner. Why not keep the car waiting a bit and join us? No ceremony, you know – just as you are!"
"Sire, I regret that it is impossible," he said. "I have undertaken to convey you with all possible speed. If we delay I cannot answer for what may happen."
"You hear what Mr. Troitz says, Sidney," said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, alarmed at the idea of another being chosen in her absence. "What does it matter if we do dine a little late? Children, we must go and put on our things at once – your warmest cloaks, mind – we're sure to find it cold motoring. Sidney and Clarence, you had better get your coats on – we shall be down directly."
Mr. Treuherz and the heralds stood at attention in the hall. While Clarence and his father struggled into their great-coats, neither of them in a very good temper, Mr. Stimpson being annoyed at postponing his dinner for what he called "tomfoolery," and Clarence secretly sulky because his parent could not be induced to see the propriety of going up to change his tie.
"I haven't yet made out, Mother," said Edna, as they came downstairs, "exactly where we're going to – or what we're expected to do when we get there."
"It will either be The Hermitage – Lady Harriet's, you know – or Mr. Troitz's country house, wherever that is. And, of course, the Committee require to know what times will suit us for rehearsing."
"I wish you'd settle it all without me," complained Edna. "I'd much rather stay at home, and run over my lecture notes… Well, if I must come, I shall bring my note-book with me in case I'm bored." And she ran into the drawing-room, and came back with the note-book, rather as an emblem of her own intellectual superiority than with any intention of referring to it. However, as will be found later, the manuscript proved to be of some service in the future.
Daphne and Ruby were the last to join the party in the hall, Ruby wildly excited at the unexpected jaunt and the prospects of not going to bed till ever so late, and Daphne, though a little doubtful whether Mrs. Stimpson was quite justified in bringing her, inclined to welcome almost any change from the evening routine of "Inglegarth." And then, after Mrs. Stimpson had given some hurried instructions to the hopelessly mystified Mitchell, the whole family issued out of the Queen Anne porch, and were conducted by Treuherz, who, to their intense confusion, insisted on walking backwards to the car, while the heralds performed another flourish on their silver trumpets. It was pitch-dark when they had got to the asphalt pavement outside their gates, but they could just make out the contours of the car in the light that streamed across the hedge to the stained glass front-door.
"Jolly queer-looking car," said Clarence. It was certainly unusually large, and seemed to have somewhat fantastic lines and decorations.
"Oh, never mind about the car!" cried Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson, who was inside it already, a vague, bundled-up shape in the gloom. "It's part of the Pageant, of course! Get in, Clarence, get in! We're late as it is! and if there's a thing I detest, it's keeping people waiting!"
"All right, Mater!" said Clarence, clambering in. "I can't make out what the dickens they've done with the bonnet – but we seem to be moving,