e of England's
proud kings, Son."

"And what did _he_ do to be proud of?" came quickly from the youthful
inquisitioner.

A hearty laugh escaped the artist. "Bully for you, Son! That's a
poser! Aside from taxing the poor and having enemies beheaded, I'm
puzzled to know what he really did do to earn his high position."

The Little Chap squirmed himself between his father's knees and
started to scale the heights to his lap, where he finally settled down
with a sigh of comfort. "Tell me a story about him," he said eagerly.
"A story with castles, 'n' wars, 'n' everything."

The artist's gaze rested on the kingly figure in the picture, then
wandered away to the window through which he seemed to lose himself in
scenes of a far-distant time.

"I'll tell you a story, Son," he began, slowly and ruminatingly, "of
how Loyalty and Service stormed the Stronghold of Honour and
Splendour. This proud king you see in the picture lived part of the
time in the great castle of Windsor, and the balance of the year in
Saint James's Palace in London."

"It must have cost him a lot for rent," wisely interpolated the Little
Chap.

"No, the people paid the rent, Son. Some of them were glad to do it,
for they looked upon their king as a superior being. Among this class
of loyal subjects was an old hatter, very poor and humble."

"What was his name?" asked the Little Chap, apparently greatly
interested.

"He had no name. People in those olden days were known by their trade
or calling. So he was simply called 'the hatter'."

"And did he make nice hats?"

"I've no doubt he did, Son. But you mustn't interrupt. Well, the
hatter paid his tithes, or taxes, after which, I dare say, he had
little enough left to live on. But he appeared not to mind. And
whenever the King and Queen rode through the streets in their gilded
coach of state, his cracked old voice would cheer lustily, and his
hoary head would be bared in deepest reverence."

"Didn't he ever catch cold?"

"Hush, Son, I'm telling a story! As the hatter grew older he lost his
wits and became quite crazy on the subject of his king. He yearned to
do something to prove his loyalty. And whenever England engaged in a
war, and a proclamation was issued calling for men to fight for King
and country, he would be one of the first to volunteer. But they never
accepted him, of course, because he was so old.

"With the passing of the years the Queen died, and the King decided to
marry again.