On the next terrace they met. He dropped his children's hands, and stopped. He was a man of some thirty years, richly clad, and handsome beyond measure. As he stopped, the multitude found its voice. A mighty shout went up. "Long live the King! Long live the King!" He paid no attention. His eyes were on the fair lady before him. A cry from the oldest boy rang out clear and sharp in the silence. "Mother!" The King held out his arms. "My darling!" he cried. "At last! At last!" "Beloved!" she cried, and rushed into his arms, and buried her face in his shoulder. The children clung to her, weeping, and with one arm she pressed them close against her side. The multitude found its voice again. "Long live Queen Miranda! Long live Queen Miranda!" CHAPTER XXV THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN "There's an Old Man," said Robert to Freddie. "He lives on the mountain. I saw him once." They were sitting on the palace lawn, looking up at the mountain which rose behind the King's tower. The sun was directly overhead, and was accordingly hidden by the cloud. The lower slopes of the mountain were easy and gradual, but they grew steeper as they ascended, and at the point where the mountain entered the cloud it was a straight and smooth wall of granite, plainly impossible to climb. The King's eldest child fixed his big eyes on the tall young man beside him. "I like you," said he. "I wish you would take me up the mountain some time for blackberries. Will you?" "If the Queen permits," said Freddie, "we will go tomorrow." A long time had passed since the Queen's return; a happy time, during which the five who had come with the Queen were made to feel as if they had lived all their lives in a palace. The two Old Codgers were found by Toby, comfortably established in a double shop of their own, on one side of which the Old Codger with the Wooden Leg sold tobacco, and on the other side of which the Sly Old Fox sold jewelry; each of them entirely contented with his fortune, and settled down for life. The Third Vice-President had paid his respects at the palace, and was unable to talk of anything but his Museum, for which he was devising many plans, including a method whereby the late Mr. Matthew Speak might be assured against ever being blown out of the window. The saintly person who had once been the Churchwarden was occupied nowadays, in a little room in the basement of the palace, in copying in beautiful letters an ancient book belonging to the King. Mr. Punch and Mr. Toby spent their time in exploring the city, arm in arm, very inquisitive, very talkative, and making friends with everybody. Mr. Hanlon's work in life was, it appeared, the climbing of the King's Tower. Every day he disappeared within, and every day he declared that he would mount to the top before he finished; but he had not yet got to the top, and there did not seem much prospect of his ever doing so.