ury, the final victor was the _Court Journal_.

For some mysterious reason the King had a great affection for hanging
about in the _Court Journal_ office, smoking a morning cigarette and
looking over files. Like all ingrainedly idle men, he was very fond of
lounging and chatting in places where other people were doing work.
But one would have thought that, even in the prosaic England of his
day, he might have found a more bustling centre.

On this particular morning, however, he came out of Kensington Palace
with a more alert step and a busier air than usual. He wore an
extravagantly long frock-coat, a pale-green waistcoat, a very full and
_degage_ black tie, and curious yellow gloves. This was his uniform as
Colonel of a regiment of his own creation, the 1st Decadents Green. It
was a beautiful sight to see him drilling them. He walked quickly
across the Park and the High Street, lighting his cigarette as he
went, and flung open the door of the _Court Journal_ office.

"You've heard the news, Pally--you've heard the news?" he said.

The Editor's name was Hoskins, but the King called him Pally, which
was an abbreviation of Paladium of our Liberties.

"Well, your Majesty," said Hoskins, slowly (he was a worried,
gentlemanly looking person, with a wandering brown beard)--"well,
your Majesty, I have heard rather curious things, but I--"

"You'll hear more of them," said the King, dancing a few steps of a
kind of negro shuffle. "You'll hear more of them, my blood-and-thunder
tribune. Do you know what I am going to do for you?"

"No, your Majesty," replied the Paladium, vaguely.

"I'm going to put your paper on strong, dashing, enterprising lines,"
said the King. "Now, where are your posters of last night's defeat?"

"I did not propose, your Majesty," said the Editor, "to have any
posters exactly--"

"Paper, paper!" cried the King, wildly; "bring me paper as big as a
house. I'll do you posters. Stop, I must take my coat off." He began
removing that garment with an air of set intensity, flung it playfully
at Mr. Hoskins' head, entirely enveloping him, and looked at himself
in the glass. "The coat off," he said, "and the hat on. That looks
like a sub-editor. It is indeed the very essence of sub-editing.
Well," he continued, turning round abruptly, "come along with that
paper."

The Paladium had only just extricated himself reverently from the
folds of the King's frock-coat, and said bewildered--

"I am afraid, you