And then His Majesty said:  “I hope everybody is doing well?” And the doctor called the head nurse in charge of the ward, who came up smiling and bowing and answered that everybody was doing beautifully, thank you; at which both His Majesty and Her Majesty declared that they were so pleased.  The queen looked about, and seeing a man with many bandages, went to him and sat by his bedside and began to ask him questions; the king moved down the centre of the room, until suddenly his eye happened on the Honourable Beatrice.

She had not moved; she stood at her place like the other nurses.  But Jimmie, watching, saw a smile come upon the king’s face, and he moved towards her saying:  “Oh! how do you do?” The young lady went to meet him, quite as if she were used to meeting kings every day.

“How are your patients doing?” inquired His Majesty.

“Beautifully,” said she; and His Majesty said that he was pleased—­just as if he had not said the same words only a minute before.  He looked at the patients with benevolent but tired-looking eyes; and the Honourable Beatrice, by those subtle methods known to women, brought it about that he looked especially at her favourite.  She knew that he would wish to talk to some of the patients, and by ever so slight a movement she brought it about that it was towards Jimmie Higgins he advanced.

“What is your name?” he asked, and then, “Well, Higgins, how are you feeling?”

“Sure, I’m all right,” said Jimmie sturdily; “I wanner get up, only she won’t let me.”

“Well,” said His Majesty, “the time was when the king was the tyrant, but now it’s the nurse.”  He smiled at the Honourable lady.  “Are you an American soldier?”

“Naw,” replied Jimmie, “I’m only a machinist.”

“This is a war of machines,” replied His Majesty, graciously.

“I’m a Socialist!” exclaimed Jimmie, right off the bat.

“Indeed!” said His Majesty.

“You bet!” was the reply.

“But you’re not one of those Socialists who oppose their country, I see.”

“I done it for a long time,” said Jimmie.  “I didn’t see we had no business in this here war.  But I been changin’—­a bit.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” remarked His Majesty.  “Doubtless your recent experience has helped you to change.”

“Sure,” replied Jimmie.  “But I’m still a Socialist, don’t you make no mistake about that, Mr. King.”

“I won’t,” said His Majesty; and he looked at the Honourable Beatrice, and between them there flashed one of those subtle messages which highly sophisticated people know how to give and to catch—­entirely over the heads of Socialist machinists from Leesville, U.S.A.  To the Honourable Beatrice the message conveyed.  “How perfectly delicious!” To His Majesty it conveyed, “I knew you’d enjoy it!”

Jimmie’s mind was, of course, occupied entirely with the idea of propaganda.  He must make the most of this strange opportunity!  “Things is goin’ to be changed after this here war!” said he.  “Fer the workin’ people, I mean.”