The dull work went tediously on.  Petitions were read, and proclamations, patents, and all manner of wordy, repetitious, and wearisome papers relating to the public business; and at last Tom sighed pathetically and murmured to himself, “In what have I offended, that the good God should take me away from the fields and the free air and the sunshine, to shut me up here and make me a king and afflict me so?” Then his poor muddled head nodded a while and presently drooped to his shoulder; and the business of the empire came to a standstill for want of that august factor, the ratifying power.  Silence ensued around the slumbering child, and the sages of the realm ceased from their deliberations.

During the forenoon, Tom had an enjoyable hour, by permission of his keepers, Hertford and St. John, with the Lady Elizabeth and the little Lady Jane Grey; though the spirits of the princesses were rather subdued by the mighty stroke that had fallen upon the royal house; and at the end of the visit his ’elder sister’—­afterwards the ‘Bloody Mary’ of history —­chilled him with a solemn interview which had but one merit in his eyes, its brevity.  He had a few moments to himself, and then a slim lad of about twelve years of age was admitted to his presence, whose clothing, except his snowy ruff and the laces about his wrists, was of black, —­doublet, hose, and all.  He bore no badge of mourning but a knot of purple ribbon on his shoulder.  He advanced hesitatingly, with head bowed and bare, and dropped upon one knee in front of Tom.  Tom sat still and contemplated him soberly a moment.  Then he said—­

“Rise, lad.  Who art thou.  What wouldst have?”

The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease, but with an aspect of concern in his face.  He said—­

“Of a surety thou must remember me, my lord.  I am thy whipping-boy.”

“My whipping-boy?”

“The same, your Grace.  I am Humphrey—­Humphrey Marlow.”

Tom perceived that here was someone whom his keepers ought to have posted him about.  The situation was delicate.  What should he do?—­pretend he knew this lad, and then betray by his every utterance that he had never heard of him before?  No, that would not do.  An idea came to his relief:  accidents like this might be likely to happen with some frequency, now that business urgencies would often call Hertford and St. John from his side, they being members of the Council of Executors; therefore perhaps it would be well to strike out a plan himself to meet the requirements of such emergencies.  Yes, that would be a wise course—­he would practise on this boy, and see what sort of success he might achieve.  So he stroked his brow perplexedly a moment or two, and presently said—­

“Now I seem to remember thee somewhat—­but my wit is clogged and dim with suffering—­”

“Alack, my poor master!” ejaculated the whipping-boy, with feeling; adding, to himself, “In truth ’tis as they said—­his mind is gone—­alas, poor soul!  But misfortune catch me, how am I forgetting!  They said one must not seem to observe that aught is wrong with him.”