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"I think," said Macfarlane slowly, "that royalty has its duties, ye see,
an' though I canna say I object to Her Majesty's homely way o' behavin',
still there are a few matters that wad be the better for her pairsonal
attention."
"Oh bother!" said Errington gaily. "Look at that victim of the nation,
the Prince of Wales! The poor fellow hasn't a moment's peace of his
life,--what with laying foundation stones, opening museums, inspecting
this and visiting that, he is like a costermonger's donkey, that must
gee-up or gee-wo as his master, the people bid. If he smiles at a woman,
it is instantly reported that he's in love with her,--if he frankly says
he considers her pretty, there's no end to the scandal. Poor royal
wretch! I pity him from my heart! The unwashed, beer-drinking,
gin-swilling classes, who clamor for shortened hours of labor, and want
work to be expressly invented for their benefit, don't suffer a bit more
than Albert Edward, who is supposed to be rolling idly in the very lap
of luxury, and who can hardly call his soul his own.


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