declared; and his manner might well have
become the dress of Buckingham. "Lord Strings is not your lackey this
season."

Buckingham gazed at him in astonishment, followed by amusement. "Lord
Strings!" he observed. "Lord Rags!"

Strings approached his lordship with a familiar, princely air. "How does
that look on my bow-finger, my lord?" and he flourished his hand wearing
the ring where Buckingham could well observe it.

His lordship started. "The King's ring!" he would have exclaimed, had
not the diplomat in his nature restrained him. "A fine stone!" he said
merely. "How came you by it?"

"Nell gave it to me," Strings answered.

Buckingham nearly revealed himself in his astonishment. "Nell!" he
muttered; and his face grew black as he wondered if his Majesty had
out-generalled him. "Damme," he observed aloud, inspecting the ring
closely, "I have taken a fancy to this gem."

"So have I," ejaculated Strings, as he avoided his lordship and strutted
across the room.

"I'll give you fifty guineas for it," said Buckingham, following him
more eagerly than the driver of a good bargain is wont.

Strings stood nonplussed. "Fifty guineas!" he exclaimed, aghast. This
was more money than the fiddler had ever thought existed. "Now?" he
asked, wonderingly.

"Now," replied his lordship, who proceeded at once to produce the
glittering coins and toss them temptingly before the fiddler's eyes.

"Oons, Nell surely meant me to sell it," he cried as he eagerly seized
the gold and fed his eyes upon it. "Odsbud, I always did love yellow."
He tossed some of the coins in the air and caught them with the
dexterity of a juggler.

Buckingham grew impatient. He desired a delivery. "Give me the ring," he
demanded.

Strings looked once more at the glittering gold; and visions of the
plenty which it insured to his little home, to say nothing of a flagon
or two of good brown ale which could be had by himself and his boon
comrades without disparagement to the dinners of the little ones, came
before him. If he had ever possessed moral courage, it was gone upon the
instant. "Done!" he exclaimed. "Oons, fifty guineas!" and he handed the
ring to Buckingham.

The fiddler was still absorbed in his possessions, whispering again and
again to the round bits of yellow: "My little bright-eyes will not go to
bed hungry to-night!" when Manager Hart entered proudly from his
tiring-room, dressed to leave the theatre.

Buckingham nodded significantly.