they said one must not seem to observe that aught is wrong with him."
"'Tis strange how my memory doth wanton with me these days," said Tom. "But mind it not—I mend apace—a little clew doth often serve to bring me back again the things and names which had escaped me. [And not they, only, forsooth, but e'en such as I ne'er heard before—as this lad shall see.] Give thy business speech."
"'Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I touch upon it an' it please your grace. Two days gone by, when your majesty faulted thrice in your Greek—in the morning lessons,—dost remember it?"
"Y-e-s—methinks I do. [It is not much of a lie—an' I had meddled with the Greek at all, I had not faulted simply thrice, but forty times.] Yes, I do recall it, now—go on."
—"The master, being wroth with what he termed such slovenly and doltish work, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it—and"—
"Whip thee!" said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind. "Why should he whip thee for faults of mine?"
"Ah, your grace forgetteth again. He always scourgeth me, when thou dost fail in thy lessons."
"True, true—I had forgot. Thou teachest me in private—then if I fail, he argueth that thy office was lamely done, and"—
"O, my liege, what words are these? I, the humblest of thy servants, presume to teach thee?"
"Then where is thy blame? What riddle is this? Am I in truth gone mad, or is it thou? Explain—speak out."
"But good your majesty, there's nought that needeth simplifying.—None may visit the sacred person of the prince of Wales with blows; wherefore when he faulteth, 'tis I that take them; and meet it is and right, for that it is mine office and my livelihood."[1]
