The cook looked at him scornfully, and broke out in angry tones,--
"What countrymen are you, that you know not how to wind up a jack?"
Charles answered her contritely, repressing the merry twinkle in his
eye.
"I am a poor tenant's son of Colonel Lane, in Staffordshire," he said;
"we seldom have roast meat, and when we have, we don't make use of a
jack."
"That's not saying much for your Staffordshire cooks, and less for your
larders," replied the maid, with a head-toss of superiority.
The house where this took place still stands, with the old jack hanging
beside the fireplace; and those who have seen it of late years do not
wonder that Charles was puzzled how to wind it up. It might puzzle a
wiser man.
There is another story in which the prince played his part as a kitchen
servant. It is said that the soldiers got so close upon his track that
they sought the house in which he was, not leaving a room in it
unvisited. Finally they made their way to the kitchen, where was the man
they sought, with a servant-maid who knew him. Charles looked around in
nervous fear. His pursuers had never been so near him. Doubtless, for
the moment, he gave up the game as lost. But the loyal cook was mistress
of the situation.
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