!" said Bald.

Alfred said nothing; he was watching the monk going slowly and sadly
away, and somehow the little figure did not look comic to him then, even
if it was short and plump and round.

"Where's Fred?" cried Bald the next minute, when the boys were getting
their bows and quivers.

His brothers could not tell him where Alfred was; so after a few moments
pause, Ethelbald said:

"Never mind: let's go without him. Hers too young and weak to do what
we do. Let him stay behind and learn Latin with old Swythe."

"He did go out after him," said Bert.

"Yes, I saw him. I remember now," cried Red.

His last words were almost smothered by his eldest brother, who raised
to his lips a curling cow-horn tipped with a copper mouthpiece and
strengthened with a ring at the head end. He proceeded to blow into it,
but failed to produce anything more huntsman-like than a kind of bray
such as might be uttered by a jackass suffering from a sore-throat.

But it was good enough to send all the dogs about the place frantic, and
away the three boys went, followed by a pack of hounds, some of which
would have been as ready to tackle wolf or boar as to dash after the
lordly stag or the big-eyed, prong-horned, graceful roes of which there
were many about the forest lands which surrounded the King's home.

Alfred, from one of the upper windows, saw them go away in triumph and
longed to join them; but he did not do so, for there was sorrow in his
heart, and for the first time in his young life he had begun to think
deeply about the words spoken by his brother and those uttered so sadly
and reproachfully by the simple-hearted, gentle monk.

CHAPTER FOUR.

A BEE IN HIS CELL.

It was in the afternoon of that same day that young Alfred loitered
about the place feeling very lonely and miserable and, truth to tell,
repentant because he had not joined his brothers in the glorious chase
they must be having. Taken altogether, he felt very miserable.

But he was not alone in that, for, going to the window, he saw Father
Swythe walking slowly down the garden amongst the Queen's flower and
herb beds, with his head bowed down and his hands behind him, looking
unhappy in the extreme.

Alfred turned away, feeling guilty, and went into another room, when, to
his surprise, he came suddenly upon Osburga, his mother, seated alone by
her embroidery-frame, her needle and silk in her hands, but not at work.

She was sitting back thinking