and bare, and dropped upon one knee in front of Tom. Tom sat still and
contemplated him soberly a moment. Then he said--

"Rise, lad. Who art thou. What wouldst have?"

The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease, but with an aspect of concern
in his face. He said--

"Of a surety thou must remember me, my lord. I am thy whipping-boy."

"My WHIPPING-boy?"

"The same, your Grace. I am Humphrey--Humphrey Marlow."

Tom perceived that here was someone whom his keepers ought to have posted
him about. The situation was delicate. What should he do?--pretend he
knew this lad, and then betray by his every utterance that he had never
heard of him before? No, that would not do. An idea came to his relief:
accidents like this might be likely to happen with some frequency, now
that business urgencies would often call Hertford and St. John from his
side, they being members of the Council of Executors; therefore perhaps
it would be well to strike out a plan himself to meet the requirements of
such emergencies. Yes, that would be a wise course--he would practise on
this boy, and see what sort of success he might achieve. So he stroked
his brow perplexedly a moment or two, and presently said--

"Now I seem to remember thee somewhat--but my wit is clogged and dim with
suffering--"

"Alack, my poor master!" ejaculated the whipping-boy, with feeling;