"It will all come right some time," he said to himself. "Some day the
Lord will teach men better, and all will be peace and love as it is
here. But oh! If only I were big and strong and powerful, so that I
could help to hasten that happy day!"

One evening, several weeks later, they sat as usual in the midst of
their circle of pets. The Hermit, with the raven on his shoulder and
the cat on his knee, was reading from the book. John, on a bench by
the window, was using the last light of an autumn day to make a basket
for gathering herbs. The gaunt wolf lay at his feet. Beside him
rested the bear, snuffling in his sleep; and stretched out between him
and the Hermit, Brutus snored peacefully. On John's shoulders roosted
their carrier pigeon, and several kittens played about his legs. The
deer lay on a pallet in the corner. It was a very peaceful scene, and
every one seemed to have forgotten the fright of a month before.

Suddenly John said: "Father, tell me about the King."

The old man started, and placing a finger in the book to mark the
place, looked at John with surprise. "Why should we speak of him?" he
asked uneasily. "This is the hour of peace and meditation on pleasant
things."

"I have thought about him so much," said John. "I cannot tell why, but
I am unable to forget him. I want to know more of him and of his son."

The old man shook his head. "I am sorry," he said. "Did you care so
much for his gorgeous clothes and jewels, his horse and band of
followers? Have they turned your head, foolish boy? Did you find
anything to admire in their talk and manner and looks? I am