But Molly moved away and seated herself upon a venerable little horse-hair trunk whose bald spots were numerous and of considerable extent. Brass-headed nails, now black with age, studded all its edges and formed at each end the initials of Josiah Judd. “Tell me, little Amos, what happened to you as a child, that you should consider yourself a fairy prince.” The trunk was short for two, but Amos, by a little pushing and crowding, managed to sit beside her. “Well, in the first place, I was always too wise and too amiable for an ordinary mor--” “No, no! Be serious.” “Well, almost everything I remember seems to point in that direction. For instance, there was a separate seat for me on swell occasions; a sort of throne, I should say, and all the other people stood up. In the big hall I told you about where the fight took place, I used to sit in an ivory chair with gold ornaments on it, cocked up on a platform apart from other people. And that afternoon I was walking across the hall toward it when the fierce-looking chap with the beard caught me up and passed me along.” “Gracious! This is very exciting! Go on.” “I could give you this sort of stuff by the yard if the conditions were favorable. The conditions now are unfavorable.” Their eyes met, but experience had taught her caution. “Go on. There are no rajahs in America, and you will do as I tell you.” “That is very true, but we are too far apart.” “And all the while you are crowding me off this trunk!” “Yes, but at the same time I am holding you on. Do you see that old rocking-chair over there with one arm that is beckoning to us?” There followed a brief, illogical discussion, then finally a gentle force was used by the stronger party, and a moment later the old chair groaned beneath a heavier burden than it had borne for thirty years. After persistent urging the reminiscences were continued. “They always helped me first at table, no matter how old the other guests were, or how many or how swell. The bowing and saluting was much more elaborate toward me than toward anyone else, and in processions they always stuck me in front. Shortly after my father died there was a grand ceremony in a sort of courtyard with awnings over us, and I remember what an everlasting affair it was, and how my uncle and an old general stood behind my chair, while all the swells and panjandrums came up and saluted me, then passed along. I should say there might have been a million. I know I went to sleep and my uncle kept tapping me on the shoulder to keep me awake.” “You poor little thing! But you must really have been something tremendously important, mustn’t you?” “It seems so.” “Well, go on.” “After that there were some big reviews, and I sat on a white pony with officers in a semicircle behind me, while the troops marched by, and the generals and colonels all saluted. That was great fun. And I shall never forget my saddle of crimson leather with the gold trimmings.”