“Oh, what aileth thee, my lord?”

Tom’s breath was nearly failing him; but he made shift to stammer out —

“Ah, be merciful, thou!

In sooth I am no lord, but only poor Tom Canty of Offal Court in the city. Prithee let me see the prince, and he will of his grace restore to me my rags, and let me hence unhurt. Oh, be thou merciful, and save me!”

By this time the boy was on his knees, and supplicating with his eyes and uplifted hands as well as with his tongue. The young girl seemed horror-stricken. She cried out —

“O my lord, on thy knees? — and to me!”

Then she fled away in fright; and Tom, smitten with despair, sank down, murmuring —