Tom turned an inquiring look toward Hertford, who whispered: “Your majesty will signify consent. They come to testify their royal masters’ sense of the heavy calamity which hath visited your grace and the realm of England.” Tom did as he was bidden. Another secretary began to read a preamble concerning the expenses of the late king’s household, which had amounted to £28,000 during the preceding six months—a sum so vast that it made Tom Canty gasp; he gasped again when the fact appeared that £20,000 of this money were still owing and unpaid; and once more when it appeared that the king’s coffers were about empty, and his twelve hundred servants much embarrassed for lack of the wages due them. Tom spoke out, with lively apprehension. “We be going to the dogs, ’tis plain. ’Tis meet and necessary that we take a smaller house and set the servants at large, sith they be of no value but to make delay, and trouble one with offices that harass the spirit and shame the soul, they misbecoming any but a doll, that hath nor brains nor hands to help itself withal. I remember me of a small house that standeth over against the fish-market, by Billingsgate——” A sharp pressure upon Tom’s arm stopped his foolish tongue and sent a blush to his face; but no countenance there betrayed any sign that this strange speech had been remarked or given concern. THE LITTLE KING IN PRISON Hendon’s[2] arts all failed with the king—he could not be comforted, but a couple of women who were chained near him, succeeded better. Under their gentle ministrations he found peace and learned a degree of patience. He was very grateful, and came to love them dearly and to delight in the sweet and soothing influence of their presence. He asked them why they were in prison, and when they said they were Baptists, he smiled and inquired: “Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison? Now I grieve, for I shall lose ye—they will not keep ye long for such a little thing.” They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy. He said, eagerly: “You do not speak—be good to me, and tell me—there will be no other punishment? Prithee, tell me there is no fear of that.” They tried to change the topic, but his fears were aroused, and he pursued it: “Will they scourge thee? No, no, they would not be so cruel! Say they would not. Come, they _will_ not, will they?” The women betrayed confusion and distress, but there was no avoiding an answer, so one of them said, in a voice choked with emotion: “Oh, thou’lt break our hearts, thou gentle spirit! God will help us to bear our——” “It is a confession!” the king broke in. “Then they _will_ scourge thee, the stony-hearted wretches. But oh, thou must not weep, I cannot bear it. Keep up thy courage—I shall come to my own in time to save thee from this bitter thing and I will do it!” When the king awoke in the morning, the women were gone.