high treason to strike a prince of the royal blood, I could, if I had
the space, recount the details of numerous fisticuffs behind the state
stables in which, sad to relate, the Prince just as often as not came
off with a battered dignity and a chastened opinion of certain small fry
who could not have been more than dukes or barons at best. But he took
his defeats manfully: he did not whimper _lesé majesté_. John Tullis,
his "Uncle Jack," had proclaimed his scorn for a boy who could not "take
his medicine." And so Prince Robin took it gracefully because he was
prince.

To-day he was--for him--rather oppressively dignified and imperial. He
may have blinked his weary eyes a time or two, but in the main he was
very attentive, very circumspect and very much puzzled. Custom required
that the ruling prince or princess should preside over the meetings of
the cabinet. It is needless to observe that the present ruler's duty
ended when he repeated (after Count Halfont): "My lords, we are now in
session." The school-room, he confessed, was a "picnic" compared to the
"Room of Wrangles": a fellow got a recess once in a while there, but
here--well, the only recess he got was when he fell asleep. To-day he
was determined to maintain a very dignified mien. It appears that at the
last meeting he had created considerable havoc by upsetting the ink well
while trying to fill his fountain pen without an injector. Moreover,
nearly half a pint of the fluid had splashed upon the Duke of Perse's
trousers--and they were grey, at that. Whereupon the Duke announced in
open conclave that His Highness needed a rattling good spanking--a
remark which distinctly hurt the young ruler's pride and made him wish
that there had been enough ink to drown the Duke instead of merely
wetting him.

About the table sat the three regents and the other men high in the