paddled up to Henry, wagging his tail. He was a very ancient hero,
whose record among the wild duck still remained a worthy memory
and won him honour in his declining days. The age of "Prince"
remained doubtful, but he was decrepit now--gone in the hams and
suffering from cataract of both eyes--a disease to which it is
impossible to minister in a dog. But his life was good to him; he
still got about, slept in the sun, and shared the best his master's
dish could offer. Sir Walter adored him, and immediately felt
uneasy if the creature did not appear when summoned. Often, had
he been invisible too long, his master would wander whistling round
his haunts. Then he would find him, or be himself found, and feel
easy again.

"Prince" went in to the open window of the breakfast-room, while
Henry, moved by a thought, walked round the eastern angle of the
house and looked up at the oriel window of the Grey Room, where
it hung aloft on the side of the wall, like a brilliant bubble,
and flashed with the sunshine that now irradiated the casement.
To his surprise he saw the window was thrown open and that May,
still in his pyjamas, knelt on the cushioned recess within and
looked out at the morning.

"Good lord, old chap!" he cried, "Needn't ask you if you have slept.
It's nearly nine o'clock."

But the other made no response whatever. He continued to gaze far
away over Henry's head at the sunrise, while the morning breeze
moved his dark hair.

"Tom! Wake up!" shouted Lennox again; but still the other did not