who had come
with the announcement that they were to be honored in a short time by
a visit from "His Majesty the King."

"The King!" exclaimed Mrs. Russell, as soon as Dolores had translated
this. "What King? Who is he?"

"The King!" said Dolores. "He can only be one--one single person--Don
Carlos--King Charles."

"King!" cried Mrs. Russell, "and coming here! Oh dear! what shall I
do? And my dresses! and my jewels! and my toilet articles! Oh, what
ever--ever--ever will become of poor me!"

"Oh, auntie, it is useless to think of that," said Katie. "You are a
prisoner, and no one knows that so well as the 'King,' as he calls
himself."

Mrs. Russell, however, felt different, and continued her lamentations
until "His Majesty" himself appeared. Great was their surprise at
finding this exalted personage to be no other than their Carlist
chief; but they felt still greater surprise when "His Majesty" began
to address them in English, with an accent which, though foreign, was
still familiar.

"We have called, ladies," said he, with a magnificent bow, "to wish
yez all a good-marnmin', an' to ax afther yer healths."

The ladies murmured some reply which was not very intelligible, in
which, however, the words "Your Majesty" occurred quite frequently.

"His Majesty" now seated himself upon the only seat in the room,
namely, an oaken bench, and then, with a wave of his royal hand,
said:

"Be sated, ladies, be sated. Let's waive all farrums an' cirimonies,
an' howld conversation like frinds. _Be_ sated, we beg; it's our
r'y'l will, so it is."

The ladies looked at one another in meek embarrassment. There was
nothing for them to sit on except the rough couches where they had
slept; and finally, as there was nothing else to be done, they sat
there, Mrs. Russell being nearest to "His Majesty," while Katie and
Dolores sat farther away, side by side, holding one another's hands,
and looking very meek and demure indeed.

"On sich occasions as these," said "His Majesty," "we love to dhrop
all coort cirimonial, an' lave behind all our bodygyards, an' nobles,
an' barr'ns, an' chamberlains, an' thim fellers, an' come in to have
a chat like a private gintleman."

"Oh, 'Your Majesty!'" said Mrs. Russell, in a languishing tone, "how
very, very nice it must be!"

"It is that, bedad; that's thrue for you," said "His Majesty." "An'
sure it's meself that's the proud man this day at findin' that yez
can put a thrue interpretation on