expect it."

"But I can't speak the language, and they can't understand English. The
thing'll be a stand-off."

"Crump will hand it to 'em. Here, Crump."

"Sir?"

"Line up and shoot His Highness's remarks into 'em."

"Yes, sir.

"It's all very well for you, Crump," said John. "You probably enjoy
this sort of thing. I don't. I haven't felt such a fool since I sang
'The Maiden's Prayer' on Tremont Street when I was joining the frat.
Are you ready? No, it's no good. I don't know what to say."

"Tell 'em you're tickled to death," advised Mr. Scobell anxiously.

John smiled in a friendly manner at the populace. Then he coughed.
"Gentlemen," he said--"and more particularly the sport on my left who
has just spoken his piece whose name I can't remember--I thank you for
the warm welcome you have given me. If it is any satisfaction to you to
know that it has made me feel like thirty cents, you may have that
satisfaction. Thirty is a liberal estimate."

"'His Highness is overwhelmed by your loyal welcome. He thanks you
warmly,'" translated Mr. Crump, tactfully.