to my more than sufficient reward — and none other, to wit: that I and my heirs, for ever, may sit in the presence of the Majesty of England!”

“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,