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I want a prince, so I gotta have a prince, and if any gazook makes a noise like a man with a grouch, he'll find himself fired." Miss Scobell turned to her paper again. "Very well, dear," she said. "Just as you please. I'm sure you know best." "Sure!" said her brother. "You're a good guesser. I'll go and beat up old man Poineau right away." Ten days after Mr.
"We've come round to your views, Mr. Scobell," he said. "That scheme of yours for our future looks good to us." Mr. Scobell bit through his cigar in his emotion. "Now, why the Heck," he moaned, "couldn't you have had the sense to do that before, and save all this trouble?" Smith drew thoughtfully at his cigar, and shifted himself more comfortably into his chair.
"Is he nice-looking, Bennie?" "Sure. All these Mervo princes have been good-lookers, I hear, and this one must be near the top of the list. You'll like him, Marion. All the girls will be crazy about him in a week." Miss Scobell turned a page. "Is he married?" Her brother started. "Married? I never thought of that. But no, I guess he's not. He'd have mentioned it.
Scobell, but he was sorry that this should have happened. They went out on the street. A taximeter cab was standing by the sidewalk. They got in. Neither spoke. John was thoughtful and preoccupied. Mr. Parker, too, appeared to be absorbed in his own thoughts. He sat with folded arms and lowered head. The cab buzzed up Fifth Avenue.
Crump had supplied him with certain facts about Mervo, one of which was that its adult population numbered just under thirteen thousand, and this had prepared him for any shortcomings in the way of popular demonstration. As a matter of fact, Mr. Scobell was exceedingly pleased with the scale of the reception, which to his mind amounted practically to pomp.
I guess he kisses your hand, don't he?" "I'll swing on him if he does," said John, cheerfully. Mr. Scobell eyed him doubtfully. His Highness did not appear to him to be treating the inaugural ceremony with that reserved dignity which we like to see in princes on these occasions. Mr. Scobell was a business man. He wanted his money's worth.
"I don't know how you've found things out, but you've done it, and we're through. We quit." "I'm glad of that," said John. "Would you mind informing Spider Reilly of that fact? It will make life pleasanter for all of us." "Mr. Scobell sent me along here to ask you to come and talk over this thing with him. He's at the Knickerbocker. I've a cab waiting outside. Can you come along?"
The interview began, shortly after breakfast, in a gentle and tactful manner, with Aunt Marion at the helm. But Mr. Scobell was not the man to stand by silently while persons were being tactful.
Benjamin Scobell to the royal Palace. He was not a man who believed in letting the grass grow under his feet. He prided himself on his briskness of attack. Every now and then Mr. Crump, searching the newspapers, would discover and hand to him a paragraph alluding to his "hustling methods."
She half-raised her hands with an impulsive movement to hide it. "I won't. I won't. I won't!" she gasped. Mr. Scobell was pacing the room in an ecstasy of triumphant rhetoric. "There's another thing," he said, swinging round suddenly and causing his sister to drop another stitch. "Maybe you think he's some kind of a Dago, this guy? Maybe that's what's biting you.
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