The guests had retreated against the walls, and Nickie held the floor.
Nobody believed this to be an artistic effort to sustain the character.
Weary Willie was as drunk as a lord. He tittered a wild Indian whoop, and
sang the chorus of "at the Old Bull and Bush," beating time with a leg of
turkey. Then he turned to the band.

"Play 'God Shave King'." he said. "If yeh don' play 'Go' Shave King' I'll
have ver heads off 'fore mornin'."

King Henry interposed, he put a restraining hand on Nickie, and spoke
soothingly to him and Nickie the Kid promptly knocked the poor monarch on
the head. Then rude hands seized Nickie: he was rushed from the house; he
was rushed down the path, and hurled into the street.

When all the guests had left the white mansion at Banklands, and daylight
was streaming in, a weary man-servant interviewed the master of
"Whitecliff."

"Please, sir," he said; "the--eh--gentleman who was thrown out last
night."

"Well, what of him?" asked the host, disgustedly.

"He's sleeping in the garden, sir."

The host went out. He found Nickie the Kid sleeping in the Pansy bed, and
Nickie was pulled to his feet.

"Nicholas!" he gasped.