A little boy with a fair poll was reaching on tiptoe to smell at a pink that depended from a vase of very thin glass standing in the deep window. The shield of the coloured pane cast a little patch of red and purple on to his callow head. He was dressed all in purple, very square, and with little chains and medallions, and a little dagger with a golden sheath was about his neck. In one hand he had a piece of paper, in the other a pencil. The Lady Mary wrote; the child moved on tiptoe, with a sedulous expression of silence about his lips, near to her elbow. He watched her writing for a long time with attentive eyes. Once he said, 'Sister, I----' but she paid him no heed. After a time she looked coldly at his face and then he moved along the table, fingered the globe very gently, touched the books and returned to her side. He stood with his little legs wide apart. Then he sighed, then he said-- 'Sister, the Queen did bid me ask you a question.' She looked round upon him. 'This was the Queen's question,' he said bravely: '"_Cur_--why--_nunquam_--never--_rides_--dost thou smile--_cum_--when--_ego, frater tuus_--I, thy little brother--_ludo_--play--_in camera tua_--in thy chamber?"' 'Little Prince,' she said, 'art not afeared of me?' 'Aye, am I,' he answered. 'Say then to the Queen,' she said, '"_Domina Maria_--the Lady Mary--_ridet nunquam_--smileth never--_quod_--because--_timoris ratio_--the reason of my fear--_bona et satis_--is good and sufficient."' He held his little head upon one side. 'The Queen did bid me say,' he uttered with his brave little voice, '"Holy Writ hath it: _Ecce quam bonum et dignum est fratres--fratres----_"' He faltered without embarrassment and added, 'I ha' forgot the words.' 'Aye!' she said, 'they ha' been long forgotten in these places; I deem it is overlate to call them to mind.' She looked upon him coldly for a long time. Then she stretched out her hand for his paper. 'Your Highness, I will set you a copy.' She took his paper and wrote-- '_Malo malo mala._' He held it in his chubby fist, his head on one side. 'I cannot conster it,' he said. 'Why, think upon it,' she answered. 'When I was thy age I knew it already two years. But I was better beaten than thou.' He rubbed his little arm. 'I am beaten enow,' he said. 'Knowest not what a swingeing is,' she answered. 'Then thou hadst a bitter childhood,' he brought out. 'I had a good mother,' she cut him short. She turned her face to her writing again; it was bitter and set. The little prince climbed slowly into the chair on the dais. He moved sturdily and curled himself up on the cushion, studying the words on the paper all the while with a little frown upon his brows. Then, shrugging his shoulders, he set the paper upon his knee and began to write.