gratitude to their
Sovereign. It had somehow been allowed to transpire that they owed their
deliverance entirely to the statesmanship of the ex-Regent.

CHAPTER IX

THE PLEASURES OF THE TABLE

King Sidney's remonstrances to Clarence on his extravagances were put in
too mild a form to offend. "Perhaps I _have_ got through rather a lot
lately," the Crown Prince admitted. "Not that I spend much on
myself--precious little chance in a bally place like this. It mostly
goes in tips. You see, the peasants about here think anything under a
purse of gold stingy. But it certainly struck me the last time I went to
the Counting-house that what sacks there were looked a bit flabby. When
do you expect some more in?"

"The Lord Treasurer thinks one or two may be delivered in a week or
so--but we shall want considerably more than that to pay our way, and I
don't see myself where it's to come from."

"I suppose," said Clarence, "it wouldn't quite do to have the gates
melted down, or the thrones; but there's any amount of other gold
furniture knocking about--what's the matter with coining that?"

"It _did_ occur to me," confessed King Sidney, "but the Court
Chamberlain says they're only silver gilt, and that's no good _here_,
you know."

"Well," said Clarence, "it's pretty clear that we shall all be in the
cart if we can't find some way to raise the wind."

A day or two later he burst into the Royal Parlour where his father was
sitting disconsolately alone. "I've found it, Guv'nor," he announced
triumphantly.

"Eh, my boy, found, what?"

"The way to raise the wind. I've been in to see little Pop-Eye--_you_
know, the Astrologer Royal."

"Xuriel? I haven't seen him since that--er--match I played with the
Marshal."

"I daresay not. The _Marshal_ saw him, though--and he hasn't been fit to
be seen in public since. Well, it seems he's been pottering away at
Magic all this time on the quiet--and quite lately he's come upon an old
spell-book of his father's and tried some of the formulas in it. And
he's turned out one little thing that's simply _it_. I bought it of him
on the spot. I'll have it brought in here for you to see."

When it was brought it was not much to look at, being just an ordinary
round table of the plainest design.

"Ah, but you wait," said Clarence. "Just say to it 'Little table, be
laid.'"

"Really, my boy," protested his father, who had evidently forgotten his
Grimm's Fairy Tales, "I can't bring