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It had not been easy for her to say it. The decision was the outcome of many wakeful nights. She had asked herself the question whether it was fair for her to keep Ted chained to her in this hopeless fashion, when, left to himself and away from her, he might so easily find some other girl to make him happy.

So Ted went, reluctantly, and the little shop on Sixth Avenue knew him no more. And Katie spent her time looking after old Mr Bennett (who had completely forgotten the affair by now, and sometimes wondered why Katie was not so cheerful as she had been), and–for, though unselfish, she was human–hating those unknown girls whom in her mind’s eye she could see clustering round Ted, smiling at him, making much of him, and driving the bare recollection of her out of his mind.

The summer passed. July came and went, making New York an oven. August followed, and one wondered why one had complained of July’s tepid advances.

It was on the evening of September the eleventh that Katie, having closed the little shop, sat in the dusk on the steps, as many thousands of her fellow-townsmen and townswomen were doing, turning her face to the first breeze which New York had known for two months. The hot spell had broken abruptly that afternoon, and the city was drinking in the coolness as a flower drinks water.

From round the corner, where the yellow cross of the Judson Hotel shone down on Washington Square, came the shouts of children, and the strains, mellowed by distance, of the indefatigable barrel-organ which had played the same tunes in the same place since the spring.

Katie closed her eyes, and listened. It was very peaceful this evening, so peaceful that for an instant she forgot even to think of Ted. And it was just during this instant that she heard his voice.

‘That you, kid?’

He was standing before her, his hands in his pockets, one foot on the pavement, the other in the road; and if he was agitated, his voice did not show it.

‘Ted!’

‘That’s me. Can I see the old man for a minute, Katie?’

This time it did seem to her that she could detect a slight ring of excitement.

‘It’s no use, Ted. Honest.’

‘No harm in going in and passing the time of day, is there? I’ve got something I want to say to him.’

‘What?’

‘Tell you later, maybe. Is he in his room?’

He stepped past her, and went in. As he went, he caught her arm and pressed it, but he did not stop. She saw him go into the inner room and heard through the door as he closed it behind him, the murmur of voices. And almost immediately, it seemed to her, her name was called. It was her grandfather’s voice which called, high and excited. The door opened, and Ted appeared.

‘Come here a minute, Katie, will you?’ he said. ‘You’re wanted.’

The old man was leaning forward in his chair. He was in a state of extraordinary excitement. He quivered and jumped. Ted, standing by the wall, looked as stolid as ever; but his eyes glittered.

‘Katie,’ cried the old man, ‘this is a most remarkable piece of news. This gentleman has just been telling me–extraordinary. He–‘

He broke off, and looked at Ted, as he had looked at Katie when he had tried to write the letter to the Parliament of England.

Ted’s eye, as it met Katie’s, was almost defiant.

‘I want to marry you,’ he said.

‘Yes, yes,’ broke in Mr Bennett, impatiently, ‘but–‘

‘And I’m a king.’

‘Yes, yes, that’s it, that’s it, Katie. This gentleman is a king.’

Once more Ted’s eye met Katie’s, and this time there was an imploring look in it.

‘That’s right,’ he said, slowly. ‘I’ve just been telling your grandfather I’m the King of Coney Island.’

‘That’s it. Of Coney Island.’

‘So there’s no objection now to us getting married, kid–Your Royal Highness. It’s a royal alliance, see?’