Elizabeth gripped the arm of her chair and leaned forward angrily, while two or three gentlemen advanced, watching their mistress for the first sign of a command. At the same moment, a triumphant thought occurred to Rebecca, and, dropping her umbrella, she opened her satchel with both hands.
"Ye needn't to get mad, Mrs. Tudor," she said. "I didn't mean any offence, but I guess you wouldn't like to be called a lunatic yerself. See here," she continued, dragging forth a section of the newspaper which she had brought with her, "ef you folks won't believe my word, jest look at this! It's all here in the newspaper--right in print. There!"
She held the paper high where all might see, and with one accord Queen and courtiers craned forward eagerly, burning with curiosity at sight of the printed columns interspersed with nineteenth-century illustrations.
Rebecca stepped forward and handed the paper to the Queen, and then, drawing forth another section from her bag, she carried it to the bewildered Raleigh, who took it like one in a trance.
For some time no one spoke. Elizabeth turned the paper this way and that, reading a bit here and a bit there, and gazing spellbound upon the enigmatic pictures.
Having completely mastered the situation, Rebecca now found time to consider her comfort. Far on one side, near the door through which she had entered, there stood a youth of perhaps sixteen, clad in the somewhat fantastic garb of a page. Having picked up her umbrella, Rebecca approached this youth and said in a sharp whisper:
The lad disappeared with startling promptitude, but he did not return. It was an agony of perplexity and shyness which had moved him, not a willingness to serve.
Rebecca gazed about at the etiquette-bound men and women around her and muttered, with an indignant snort and toss of the head:
Then, with head held high and a frigid "Beg pardon, mister!" she elbowed her way through the dense throng of gentlemen-in-waiting and seated herself on the bench arranged along the side of the cabin.
"Oof!" she exclaimed. "Feels though my legs would drop clear off!"
"Why, what now!" she exclaimed. "Whither hath the strange woman gone?"
A tall man dressed in black and gold stepped forward and dropped upon one knee. He had a long, humorous face, with high cheek bones, a straight, good-humored mouth, with a high mustache well off the lip and a pointed beard. The eyes, set far apart, twinkled with the light of fun as he awaited permission to speak.