“Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight,” said the King, gravely—­giving the accolade with Hendon’s sword—­“rise, and seat thyself.  Thy petition is granted.  Whilst England remains, and the crown continues, the privilege shall not lapse.”

His Majesty walked apart, musing, and Hendon dropped into a chair at table, observing to himself, “’Twas a brave thought, and hath wrought me a mighty deliverance; my legs are grievously wearied.  An I had not thought of that, I must have had to stand for weeks, till my poor lad’s wits are cured.”  After a little, he went on, “And so I am become a knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows!  A most odd and strange position, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as I. I will not laugh—­no, God forbid, for this thing which is so substanceless to me is real to him.  And to me, also, in one way, it is not a falsity, for it reflects with truth the sweet and generous spirit that is in him.”  After a pause:  “Ah, what if he should call me by my fine title before folk!—­there’d be a merry contrast betwixt my glory and my raiment!  But no matter, let him call me what he will, so it please him; I shall be content.”

Chapter XIII.  The disappearance of the Prince.

A heavy drowsiness presently fell upon the two comrades.  The King said—­

“Remove these rags”—­meaning his clothing.

Hendon disapparelled the boy without dissent or remark, tucked him up in bed, then glanced about the room, saying to himself, ruefully, “He hath taken my bed again, as before—­marry, what shall I do?” The little King observed his perplexity, and dissipated it with a word.  He said, sleepily—­

“Thou wilt sleep athwart the door, and guard it.”  In a moment more he was out of his troubles, in a deep slumber.

“Dear heart, he should have been born a king!” muttered Hendon, admiringly; “he playeth the part to a marvel.”

Then he stretched himself across the door, on the floor, saying contentedly—­

“I have lodged worse for seven years; ’twould be but ill gratitude to Him above to find fault with this.”

He dropped asleep as the dawn appeared.  Toward noon he rose, uncovered his unconscious ward—­a section at a time—­and took his measure with a string.  The King awoke, just as he had completed his work, complained of the cold, and asked what he was doing.

“’Tis done, now, my liege,” said Hendon; “I have a bit of business outside, but will presently return; sleep thou again—­thou needest it.  There—­let me cover thy head also—­thou’lt be warm the sooner.”

The King was back in dreamland before this speech was ended.  Miles slipped softly out, and slipped as softly in again, in the course of thirty or forty minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of boy’s clothing, of cheap material, and showing signs of wear; but tidy, and suited to the season of the year.  He seated himself, and began to overhaul his purchase, mumbling to himself—­