Majesty the Queen 'erself."

William stopped blowing at his smoking saucer.

"They s'y She's dyin'!" His face lengthened. He put the saucer down. "They
'ave it in the evenin' pypers!"

Mrs. Keyse had a flash of inspiration.

"I reckon it don't seem dyin' to 'Er!"

"Wot are you gettin' at?" asked the man in bewilderment.

"I'm gettin' at it like this," said the lighter brain. "All 'er long life
she's 'ad to be a queen first, an' a wife after. Now she lays there she's
no more than a wife--a wife wots goin' to meet 'er 'usband agin after
yeers an' yeers o' waitin'. For 'er Crown she leaves be'ind 'er for 'er
son, but 'er weddin' ring goes wiv' 'er in 'er coffin! See?"

"I pipe. Wonder wot 'Er an' 'Im 'll s'y to one another fust thing they
meet?"

"They won't s'y nothink," said the visionary, soberly taking tea. "But I
shouldn't be surprised but wot they'd stand an' look in one another's
fyces wivout s'yin' a word, for a week or so by the Time Above, an' the
tears a-runnin' down an' never stoppin'!"

"Garn! There ain't no cryin' in 'Eaven," said W. Keyse, beginning on the
bread-and-butter. "The Bible tells you so!"

"That's right enough. But I lay Gawd lets folks do a bit o' blub--just
once," said Emigration Jane, "before 'E wipes their eyes, becos you don't
begin to know wot 'appiness means until you've cried for joy!"

"I pretty near did when the Doctor give me this chauffeuring job, and so I
tell you stryte," affirmed her lord. "D'you know I 'ad a shy at thankin'
'im agyne, an' got my 'ead bit orf. 'Shut your damned mouth!'--that's wot
the Doctor s'ys to me. Well, I 'ave shut it!" He closed his jaws upon an
inch-thick slice. "But wot I s'y to myself is," he continued, masticating,
"that makes the Third Time, an' the Third Time's the Charm!"

"Wot do you mean by the third time, deer?" asked Mrs. Keyse, putting more
hot water in the teapot.

"The First," said W. Keyse, with an air of mystery, "was in a saloon-bar
full o' Transvaal an' Free State Dutchies at Gueldersdorp."

"Lor'! You don't ever mean----" began his wife, and stopped short. The
scene of her first meeting with W. Keyse flashed back upon her mental
vision. She saw the big man waking up out of his drunken stupor and
lurching to the rescue of the little one. "Was it 'im?" she panted, as the
teapot ran over on the clean coarse cloth. "Was it Dr. Saxham?"

"You may tyke it from me it was." W. Keyse rescued the kettle, restored it
to the hob, retur