Beverly of Graustark | Page 4

in jeopardy.
Miss Calhoun's most cherished hopes faded with the announcement
that trouble, not pleasure, called Yetive to Edelweiss. It had been their
plan that Beverly should spend the delightful summer months in
Graustark, a guest at the royal palace. The original arrangements of the
Lorrys were hopelessly disturbed by the late news from Count Halfont.
They were obliged to leave Washington two months earlier than they
intended, and they could not take Beverly Calhoun into danger-ridden
Graustark. The contemplated visit to St. Petersburg and other pleasures
had to be abandoned, and they were in tears.
Yetive's maids were packing the trunks, and Lorry's servants were in a
wild state of haste preparing for the departure on Saturday's ship. On
Friday afternoon, Beverly was naturally where she could do the most
good and be of the least help--at the Lorrys'. Self-confessedly, she
delayed the preparations. Respectful maidservants and respectful
menservants came often to the princess's boudoir to ask questions, and
Beverly just as frequently made tearful resolutions to leave the
household in peace--if such a hullaballoo could be called peace. Callers
came by the dozen, but Yetive would see no one. Letters, telegrams and
telephone calls almost swamped her secretary; the footman and the
butler fairly gasped under the strain of excitement. Through it all the
two friends sat despondent and alone in the drear room that once had
been the abode of pure delight. Grenfall Lorry was off in town closing
up all matters of business that could be despatched at once. The
princess and her industrious retinue were to take the evening express
for New York and the next day would find them at sea.
"I know I shall cry all summer," vowed Miss Calhoun, with conviction
in her eyes. "It's just too awful for anything." She was lying back

among the cushions of the divan and her hat was the picture of cruel
neglect. For three solid hours she had stubbornly withstood Yetive's
appeals to remove her hat, insisting that she could not trust herself to
stay more than a minute or two." It seems to me, Yetive, that your
jailers must be very incompetent or they wouldn't have let loose all this
trouble upon you," she complained.
"Prince Gabriel is the very essence of trouble," confessed Yetive,
plaintively." He was born to annoy people, just like the evil prince in
the fairy tales."
"I wish we had him over here," the American girl answered stoutly.
"He wouldn't be such a trouble I'm sure. We don't let small troubles
worry us very long, you know."
"But he's dreadfully important over there, Beverly; that's the difficult
part of it," said Yetive, solemnly." You see, he is a condemned
murderer."
"Then, you ought to hang him or electrocute him or whatever it is that
you do to murderers over there," promptly spoke Beverly.
"But, dear, you don't understand. He won't permit us either to hang or
to electrocute him, my dear. The situation is precisely the reverse, if he
is correctly quoted by my uncle. When Uncle Caspar sent an envoy to
inform Dawsbergen respectfully that Graustark would hold it
personally responsible if Gabriel were not surrendered, Gabriel himself
replied: 'Graustark be hanged!'"
"How rude of him, especially when your uncle was so courteous about
it. He must be a very disagreeable person," announced Miss Calhoun.
"I am sure you wouldn't like him," said the princess. "His brother, who
has been driven from the throne--and from the capital, in fact--is quite
different. I have not seen him, but my ministers regard him as a
splendid young man."
"Oh, how I hope he may go back with his army and annihilate that old

Gabriel!" cried Beverly, frowning fiercely.
"Alas," sighed the princess, "he hasn't an army, and besides he is
finding it extremely difficult to keep from being annihilated himself.
The army has gone over to Prince Gabriel."
"Pooh!" scoffed Miss Calhoun, who was thinking of the enormous
armies the United States can produce at a day's notice. "What good is a
ridiculous little army like his, anyway? A battalion from Fort Thomas
could beat it to--"
"Don't boast, dear," interrupted Yetive, with a wan smile. "Dawsbergen
has a standing army of ten thousand excellent soldiers. With the war
reserves she has twice the available force I can produce."
"But your men are so brave," cried Beverly, who had heard their
praises sung.
"True, God bless them; but you forget that we must attack Gabriel in
his own territory. To recapture him means a perilous expedition into the
mountains of Dawsbergen, and I am sorely afraid. Oh, dear, I hope he'll
surrender peaceably!"
"And go back to jail for life?" cried Miss Calhoun. "It's a good deal to
expect of him, dear. I fancy it's much better fun kicking up a rumpus