tone, that I might do as I pleased——there were many he knew that would give their ears to go.
"Have you ever been yourself, Bruno?"
"They invited me once, last week," Bruno said, very gravely. "It was to wash up the soup-plates——no, the cheese-plates I mean——that was grand enough. And I waited at table. And I didn't hardly make only one mistake."
"What was it?" I said. "You needn't mind telling me."
"Only bringing scissors to cut the beef with," Bruno said carelessly. "But the grandest thing of all was, I fetched the King a glass of cider!"
"That was grand!" I said, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.
"Wasn't it?" said Bruno, very earnestly. "Oo know it isn't every one that's had such an honour as that!"
This set me thinking of the various queer things we call "an honour" in this world, but which, after all, haven't a bit more honour in them than what Bruno enjoyed, when he took the King a glass of cider.
I don't know how long I might not have dreamed on in this way, if Bruno hadn't sud-
