the 'little urchin' was the beggar-boy whom he left
dressed in his own garments in the palace. It did not seem possible that
this could be, for surely his manners and speech would betray him if he
pretended to be the Prince of Wales--then he would be driven out, and
search made for the true prince. Could it be that the Court had set up
some sprig of the nobility in his place? No, for his uncle would not
allow that--he was all-powerful and could and would crush such a
movement, of course. The boy's musings profited him nothing; the more he
tried to unriddle the mystery the more perplexed he became, the more his
head ached, and the worse he slept. His impatience to get to London grew
hourly, and his captivity became almost unendurable.

Hendon's arts all failed with the King--he could not be comforted; but a
couple of women who were chained near him succeeded better. Under their
gentle ministrations he found peace and learned a degree of patience. He
was very grateful, and came to love them dearly and to delight in the
sweet and soothing influence of their presence. He asked them why they
were in prison, and when they said they were Baptists, he smiled, and
inquired--

"Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison? Now I grieve, for I
shall lose ye--they will not keep ye long for such a little thing."

They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy. He
said, eagerly--

"You do not speak; be good to me, and tell me--there will be no other
punishment? Prithee tell me there is no fear of that."

They tried to change the topic, but his fears were aroused, and he
pursued it--

"Will they scourge thee? No, no, they would not be so cruel! Say they
would not. Come, they WILL not, will they?"

The women betrayed confusion and distress, but there was no avoiding an
answer, so one of them said, in a voice choked with emotion--

"Oh, thou'lt break our hearts, thou gentle spirit!--God will help us to
bear our--"

"It is a confession!" the King broke in. "Then they WILL scourge thee,
the stony-hearted wretches! But oh, thou must not weep, I cannot bear
it. Keep up thy courage--I shall come to my own in time to save thee
from this bitter thing, and I will do it!"

When the King awoke in the morning, the women were gone.

"They are saved!" he said, joyfully; then added, despondently, "but woe
is me!--for they were my comforters."

Each of them had left a shred of ribbon pinned to his cloth