* * * * *

He was in wonderful good humour that evening; and I heard more of his public talk than ever before; for he made me draw up a stool presently upon the hearth.  Now and again a gentleman came across to be presented to him; and others came and looked in for a while and away again.  There were constant comings and goings; and once, as a French boy was singing songs to a spinet, near the door, I saw the serious face of Mr. Evelyn, with two of his friends, look in upon the scene.

I cannot remember one quarter of all the things that were said.  Now the King was silent, playing with the ears of his dogs and smiling to himself; now he would say little things that stuck in the memory, God knows why!  For example, he said that he had eaten two goose’s eggs for supper, which shewed what a strong stomach he had; and he described to us a very fierce duck that had snapped his hand that afternoon in the park.  History is not made of these things; and yet sometimes I think that it should be; for those be the matters that interest little folk; and most of us are no more than that.  I do not suppose that in all the world there is one person except myself who knows that His Sacred Majesty ate two goose’s eggs to his supper on that Sunday night.

He spoke presently of his new palace at Winchester that he was a-building, and that was near finished.

“I shall be very happy this week,” said he, “for my building will be all covered in with lead.” (He said the same thing again, later, to my Lord Ailesbury, who remembered it when it was fulfilled, though in another manner than the King had meant.)

He talked too of “little Ken,” as he named him (who had been made Bishop last week), and of the story that so many told—­(for the King told his stories several times over when he was in a good humour)—­and the way he told it to-night was this.

“Ah! that little Ken!” said he.  “Little black Ken!  He is the man to tell me my sins!  Your Grace should hear him”—­(added he)—­“upon the Seventh Commandment!  And such lessons drawn from Scripture too-from the Old Testament!”

He looked up sharply and merrily at Her Grace of Portsmouth as he said this.

“Well; when poor Nell and I went down to Winchester a good while ago,” he went on, “what must little Ken do but refuse her a lodging!  This is a man to be a Bishop, thought I. And so poor Nell had to sleep where she could.”

Her Grace of Portsmouth looked very glum while this tale was told; for she hated Mrs. Nelly with all her heart.  She flounced a little in her seat; and one of the dogs barked at her for it.

“First a monk and then a Duchess!” said the King.  “Did you ever hear of the good man of Salisbury who put his hand into my carriage to greet me, and was bitten for his pains?  ‘God bless Your Majesty,’ said he, ’and God damn Your Majesty’s dogs!’—­Eh, Fubbs?”—­(for so he called the Duchess).