d-night, Your Highness," replied Miss Braithwaite.

At the door Prince Ferdinand William Otto turned and bowed again. Then
he went out, and the door closed behind him.

He washed himself, with Oskar standing by, holding a great soft towel.
Even the towels were too large. And he brushed his teeth, and had two
drinks of water, because a stiffish feeling in his throat persisted.
And at last he crawled up into the high bed that was so much too big for
him, and had to crawl out again, because he had forgotten his prayers.

When everything was done, and the hour of putting out the light could
no longer be delayed, he said goodnight to Oskar, who bowed. There was
a great deal of, bowing in Otto's world. Then, whisk! it was dark, with
only the moon face of the cathedral clock for company. And as it was now
twenty minutes past seven, the two hands drooped until it looked like a
face with a cruel mouth and was really very poor company.

Oskar, having bowed himself into the corridor and past the two sentries,
reported to a very great dignitary across the hall that His Royal
Highness the Crown Prince Ferdinand William Otto was in bed. And the
dignitary had a chance to go away and get his dinner.

But alone in his great bed, the Crown Prince was shedding a few
shamefaced tears. He was extremely ashamed of them. He felt that under
no circumstances would his soldier father have behaved so. He reached
out and secured one of the two clean folded handkerchiefs that were
always placed on the bedside stand at night, and blew his nose very
loudly. But he could not sleep.

He gave Miss Braithwaite time to go to her sitting-room, and for eight
o'clock to pass, because once every hour, all night, a young gentleman
of the Court, appointed for this purpose and dubbed a "wet-nurse" by
jealous comrades, cautiously opened his door and made a stealthy circuit
of the room, to see that all was well.

The Crown Prince got up. He neglected to put on his bedroom slippers,
of course, and in his bare feet be padded across the room to the study
door. It was not entirely dark. A night-light burned there. It stood on
a table directly under the two crossed swords. Beneath the swords, in a
burnt-wood frame, were the pictures of his father and mother. Hedwig had
given him a wood-burning outfit at Christmas, and he had done the work
himself. It consisted of the royal arms, somewhat out of drawing and
not exactly in the center of the frame, and a floral bord