… They like me; they trust me; they have come to look to me for help in all their problems and troubles. And no man wants to do unfair things to them who trust him.… And then again, I like them. They are, as it were, my children—I never had any children of my own—and I am terribly interested in how they will grow up. Don't you see what I mean?—How can I possibly run away and leave them in the lurch? … No. I have thought it over a good deal and tried to decide what was best. And I am afraid that the work I took up when I assumed the crown I must stick to. I'm afraid—I've got to stay."
"For good—for your whole life?" asked Bumpo in a low voice.
For some moments the Doctor, frowning, made no answer.
"I don't know," he said at last—"Anyhow for the present there is certainly no hope of my leaving. It wouldn't be right."
The sad silence that followed was broken finally by a knock upon the door.
With a patient sigh the Doctor got up and put on his crown and cloak again.
"Come in," he called, sitting down in his chair once more.
The door opened and a footman—one of the hundred and forty-three who were always on night duty—stood bowing in the entrance.
