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They had cut the cake with Boby on the top, and the Crown Prince had eaten far more than was good for him. He sat, fingering the Lincoln penny and feeling extremely full and very contented. Then, suddenly, from a far-off church a deep-toned bell began to toll slowly. Prince Ferdinand William Otto caught it. St. Stefan's bell! He sat up and listened.
Which proves that, whether it wears it or not, royalty is always measured to the top of a crown. In the next room Bobby's mother was arranging candles on a birthday cake in the center of the table. Pepy had iced the cake herself, and had forgotten one of the "b's" in "Bobby" so that the cake really read: "Boby XII."
She was no opéra-comique Mère Boby going into ecstasies over the gildings and fine trinkets; the vases of flowers on every landing of the staircase she ascended behind her trunk, the hall-lamps supported by bronze statues, did not prevent her noticing that there was a finger's depth of dust on the stair-rail and that the carpet was torn.
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