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“Slick!”

Miss Tingle, the refined lady secretary recommended by the hotel, had arrived at noon, and had been engaged.

“Can you go to work right now?” demanded Bessie. “I’m going to grab off a king!”

“Grab off—a king, madame?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know why it is! Back in Hollywood, I thought I could sling the King’s English all right, but in England, seems like every time I say anything they repeat what I say and register astonishment! I guess I’m kind of a lady Buffalo Bill. Well, let’s get to it. Now listen. ”

She explained the scheme for the capture of publicity by making Terry and King Maximilian chums.

“And just between you and I, I wouldn’t kick and holler much if I got to be buddies with Queen Sidonie. Of course Terry’s publicity comes first. I just sacrifice everything to that boy. But same time I’ve seen pictures of Sidonie. Somehow I just feel (Do you believe in the Higher Thought?—you know there’s a lot of these instincts and hunches and all like that that you just can’t explain by material explanations)—and somehow I feel that she and I would be great pals, if we had the chance. Oh, dear!”

Bessie sighed the gentle sigh of a self-immolating mother.

“It’s just fierce the way I’ve had to submerge my own personality for my husband and son. But I guess unselfishness never goes unrewarded. So look. We’ll just write her a little letter and send it down by hand. Of course I want to enclose a card, so’s she’ll know whom I am. Which of these cards would do the trick better, do you think?”

One of the two cards was a highly restrained document: merely “Mrs. T. Benescoten Tait,” in engraved script. But the other card was baroque. It was impressive. It announced:

Mr. & Mrs. T. Benescoten Tait
Pop and Mom of
TERRY TAIT
The King of Boy Comedians
Star of “Kids Is Kids,” “Wee Waifs o’ Dockland,”
“A Child of the Midnight,” etc.
Castello Marino, Poppy Peaks, Cal.

It was embossed in red, blue, silver, and canary-yellow, and while it was slightly smaller than a motor-license plate, it was much more striking.

“Now maybe this colored one ain’t as society as the other, but don’t you think Her Majesty would be more likely to notice it?” said Bessie anxiously.

Miss Tingle was terrified yet fascinated. “I’ve never,” she gasped, “had the privilege of communicating with a queen, but if I may say so, I fancy the plainer card would be more suitable, madame. ”

“Oh, I suppose so. But the big card cost a lot of money. Well, now, will you take dictation on a letter? I suppose the old gal reads English?”

“Oh, I understand that Their Majesties write and speak six languages. ”

“Well, I’d be satisfied with one. When I get back home I’m going to hire some Britisher to learn me to talk snooty. Well, here goes. Take this down:

“Her Majesty, the Queen of Slovaria.

“Dear Madame:

“I guess you will be surprised at receiving this letter from a total stranger, but I am a neighbor of yours, having the suite right above yours here in the hotel. And probably you have heard of my son, Mr. Terry Tait, the well-known boy actor in the movies— no, make that cinema, Miss Tingle—and I hope that maybe your boy, King Maximilian, has seen him in some of his celebrated films, such as ‘Please Buy a Paper’ or ‘Give Me a Penny, Mister. ’

“He is here with me in London, and every hour he says to me, ‘Ma, I’m just crazy to meet this boy king, Maximilian, he being my own age, which is ten, etc. ’

“As your boy is a king, and as folks in many lands have been kind enough to call Terry the King of Boy Actors, I thought maybe it would be nice if the two could get together and compare notes, etc. I would be very pleased to give him and you lunch or tea or dinner or a cocktail or whatever would be convenient for you and though of course Terry has many dates, having to lecture to the Lads’ Brigade, etc. , we would try to keep any date that you might set.

“But I am afraid we’ll have to make it in the next few days, as Terry’s Public in Paris is begging for him.