first at one and then another of the
lords about him, and tears came into his eyes. They sprang forward with
dismay in their faces, and begged to know his trouble. Tom said with
genuine anguish--

"I crave your indulgence: my nose itcheth cruelly. What is the custom
and usage in this emergence? Prithee, speed, for 'tis but a little time
that I can bear it."

None smiled; but all were sore perplexed, and looked one to the other in
deep tribulation for counsel. But behold, here was a dead wall, and
nothing in English history to tell how to get over it. The Master of
Ceremonies was not present: there was no one who felt safe to venture
upon this uncharted sea, or risk the attempt to solve this solemn
problem. Alas! there was no Hereditary Scratcher. Meantime the tears
had overflowed their banks, and begun to trickle down Tom's cheeks. His
twitching nose was pleading more urgently than ever for relief. At last
nature broke down the barriers of etiquette: Tom lifted up an inward
prayer for pardon if he was doing wrong, and brought relief to the
burdened hearts of his court by scratching his nose himself.

His meal being ended, a lord came and held before him a broad, shallow,
golden dish with fragrant rosewater in it, to cleanse his mouth and
fingers with; and my lord the Hereditary Diaperer stood by with a napkin
for his use. Tom gazed at the dish a puzzled moment or two, then raised
it to his lips, and gravely took a draught. Then he returned it to the
waiting lord, and said--

"Nay, it likes me not, my lord: it hath a pretty flavour, but it wanteth
strength."

This new eccentricity of the prince's ruined mind made all the hearts
about him ache; but the sad sight moved none to merriment.

Tom's next unconscious blunder was to get up and leave the table just
when the chaplain had taken his stand behind his chair, and with uplifted
hands, and closed, uplifted eyes, was in the act of beginning the
blessing. Still nobody seemed to perceive that the prince had done a
thing unusual.

By his own request our small friend was now conducted to his private
cabinet, and left there alone to his own devices. Hanging upon hooks in
the oaken wainscoting were the several pieces of a suit of shining steel
armour, covered all over with beautiful designs exquisitely inlaid in
gold. This martial panoply belonged to the true prince--a recent present
from Madam Parr the Queen. Tom put on the greaves, the gauntlets, th