A ROYAL INTERVIEW.

"Someone to see you, Miss."

Thus Mary at about nine o'clock on an April evening at the door of my

tiny sitting-room.

There was a strange little quiver in her voice.

Mary is so extremely well trained, and so accustomed, moreover, to queer

visitors at the flat, that I looked up in surprise.

"Yes?" I said. "Is it a lady?"

Mary did not reply immediately; she seemed half-dazed.

"Is it a lady?" I repeated a little sharply. My usually imperturbable

parlourmaid appeared to have taken leave of her senses.

"She said she was a queen, Miss," she gasped.

At that moment the visitor, evidently grown tired of waiting, calmly

floated in through the half-open door and settled down gracefully in the

centre of a large gold cushion lying on the end of the Chesterfield.

Fortunately I grasped the situation at once.

"Thank you, Mary," I said, with what I now feel to have been most

commendable coolness in the entirely unprecedented circumstances; "I

will ring if I want tea later."

When the door had closed upon the still gasping Mary I turned

apologetically to my visitor.

"I'm so sorry, your Majesty," I said. "You see, my maid was not

unnaturally a little surprised--"

"It's _quite_ all right," said the Fairy Queen graciously; "I thought

you wouldn't mind my coming in."

"Of course not," I said; "I am only too delighted. Won't you come nearer

the fire?"

She looked down at the cushion on which she was sitting, then she looked

up at me and smiled.

"I don't like to leave it," she said; "it's so pretty." And she stroked

the soft gold stuff with her tiny hand.

"Yes," I said; "and your lovely frock goes with it so beautifully. But

how would this be?"

I stooped, gently lifted the cushion with its delicate burden and put it

down on the floor in front of the fire. "There--how is that?"

"That's delightful," said the Fairy Queen. "I'm so glad you like my

frock," she went on. "Paris, of course. That is to say, the idea came

from there. My own people did the actual making. After all, no one can

touch the French when it comes to real _chic_. Don't you think so?"

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 156, June 11, 1919 · 第 36 / 44 题