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On the death of the King, however, which took place two years later, the Prince, being now his own master, made a public declaration of his marriage, and went in great state to bring the Queen, his wife, to the palace. She made a magnificent entry into the capital, with her two children, one on either side of her.,

In the meanwhile, all the palace had been roused at the same time as the Princess. Everybody remembered his or her duty, and, as they were not all in love, they were dying with hunger. The lady-in-waiting, as hungry as any of them, became impatient, and announced loudly to the Princess that the meat was on the table. The Prince assisted the Princess to rise; she was fully dressed, and most magnificently, but he was careful not to tell her that she was dressed like his grandmother, and wore a stand-up collar, for, in spite of this, she was not a whit less beautiful.,

Every one they met as they rode along turned around and stared at Johnny. It was very embarrassing, really, to be the heir of Kingthorpe.,

The old man’s meal was sour dough biscuits and a sort of soup made from jerked beef and river water. But he offered it to them and served it as if it were a banquet. To the tired, hungry boys it was a banquet. They had done tremendous deeds on a diet of canned goods and any change was welcome.

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And Death and Vengeance close the ghastly band!,

Every one said that Uncle Isaac was awfully rich. Well, then, why did he look so sad and why was he always thinking and thinking so hard? What in the world could he be puzzling about when he was so rich? Why, he had everything, even to a saddle horse and a pleasure yacht; and the horse was a thoroughbred, according to Carlstrom the coachman.,

And home was a good way off; first through the forest, then along the stone wall, and all across the Karine place, where everybody could see him. How disgusting! Where Eric was, or even which way he had gone in the woods, Johnny had no idea.,

Johnny Blossom hastened to get Mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. Johnny cut and cut. Suddenly the big blades slipped, caught Johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! It hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! Johnny Blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. Now it was all over his trousers. Perhaps he had better hide until it stopped.