“Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty’s desire.  Remember all thou canst—­seem to remember all else.  Let them not perceive that thou art much changed from thy wont, for thou knowest how tenderly thy old play-fellows bear thee in their hearts and how ’twould grieve them.  Art willing, sir, that I remain?—­and thine uncle?”

Tom signified assent with a gesture and a murmured word, for he was already learning, and in his simple heart was resolved to acquit himself as best he might, according to the King’s command.

In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young people became a little embarrassing at times.  More than once, in truth, Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to his tremendous part; but the tact of the Princess Elizabeth saved him, or a word from one or the other of the vigilant lords, thrown in apparently by chance, had the same happy effect.  Once the little Lady Jane turned to Tom and dismayed him with this question,—­

“Hast paid thy duty to the Queen’s majesty to-day, my lord?”

Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out something at hazard, when Lord St. John took the word and answered for him with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter delicate difficulties and to be ready for them—­

“He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly hearten him, as touching his majesty’s condition; is it not so, your highness?”

Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he was getting upon dangerous ground.  Somewhat later it was mentioned that Tom was to study no more at present, whereupon her little ladyship exclaimed—­

“’Tis a pity, ’tis a pity!  Thou wert proceeding bravely.  But bide thy time in patience:  it will not be for long.  Thou’lt yet be graced with learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as many languages as his, good my prince.”

“My father!” cried Tom, off his guard for the moment.  “I trow he cannot speak his own so that any but the swine that kennel in the styes may tell his meaning; and as for learning of any sort soever—­”

He looked up and encountered a solemn warning in my Lord St. John’s eyes.

He stopped, blushed, then continued low and sadly:  “Ah, my malady persecuteth me again, and my mind wandereth.  I meant the King’s grace no irreverence.”

“We know it, sir,” said the Princess Elizabeth, taking her ‘brother’s’ hand between her two palms, respectfully but caressingly; “trouble not thyself as to that.  The fault is none of thine, but thy distemper’s.”

“Thou’rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,” said Tom, gratefully, “and my heart moveth me to thank thee for’t, an’ I may be so bold.”

Once the giddy little Lady Jane fired a simple Greek phrase at Tom.  The Princess Elizabeth’s quick eye saw by the serene blankness of the target’s front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered a return volley of sounding Greek on Tom’s behalf, and then straightway changed the talk to other matters.