well," he said, in his autocratic way, "we will proceed as we did
yesterday," and he led Susie away. Strange to relate, she followed quite
meekly. Somehow, when the moment came, it seemed exceedingly difficult
to snub him.

"Do you know," he was saying, "I fell quite in love with your father
last night. His point of view is so fresh and so full of humour.
Though," he added, "I must confess that sometimes I did not entirely
understand him."

"Didn't you?" laughed Susie. "Dad _does_ use a good deal of slang. It's
an American failing."

"So I have heard. I know my aunt will like him, too--the Dowager Duchess
of Markheim, you know."

"No," said Sue, a little faintly, "I didn't know." She had never before
considered the possibility of the Prince having any women relatives; her
heart fell as she thought what dreadful creatures they would probably
prove to be.

"My aunt is the head of the family," explained the Prince, calmly,
unconscious of his companion's perturbation. "She rules us with a rod of
iron. But you will like her and I know she will like you. She adores
anything with fire in it."

"Oh," said Susie, to herself, "and how does he know I've any fire in
me?" But she judged it wisest not to utter the question aloud.

"She worships spirit," added the Prince. "She is very fond of quoting a
line of your poet, Browning. 'What have I on earth to do,' she will
demand, 'with the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?' Sometimes, I
fear, she aims the adjectives at me."

Susie felt her heart softening, for she liked that line, too.

"I don't believe you deserve the adjectives,'' she said.

"Do you not?" he asked, eagerly, with brightened eyes.

"And I should like to meet your aunt," she continued, hastily.

"So you shall, most certainly," he assented, instantly. "As soon as it
can be arranged."

"Oh, does it have to be arranged?" inquired Susie, in some dismay.

"Not in that sense--she is very democratic--she likes people for what
they are. But until this question of the succession is concluded you
will readily understand that, through anxiety, she is not in the best of
humours--not quite herself."

"Is she, then, here?" asked Susie.

"Here? Oh, no; she is at Markheim--at the post of duty. That is another
reason--until this affair is settled, I cannot ask her to join me here."

"You will ask her to do that?"

"Certainly; she can stop here very well on her way to Ostend. She would
be at Ostend now but for