Eddie Helston
was, at the same time, endeavoring to make his way forward through the
crowded seats behind the Prime Minister.
Meanwhile Lord Parham had perceived the paper, raised it, and adjusted
his spectacles. He thought it was a communication from the audience--a
question, perhaps, that he was expected to answer.
"Lord Parham!" cried the Lord Lieutenant again, "would you--"
"Silence, please! Speak up!"--from the audience, who had so far failed
to catch a word of what the new speaker was saying.
"What
is the matter? You really can't get through here!" said a
gray-haired dowager crossly to Eddie Helston.
Lord Parham looked at the paper in mystification. It contained these
words:
"Hope you've been counting the 'I's.' I make it fifty-seven.--K."
And in the corner of the paper a thumb-nail sketch of himself,
perorating, with a garland of capital I's round his neck.
The Premier's face became brick-red, then gray again. He folded up the
paper and put it in his waistcoat-pocket.
The meeting had broken up. For the common herd, it was to be followed by
sports in the park and refreshments in big tents.
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