He galloped straight to the great entrance way, and leaped from his horse, and no one questioned him, for they all knew by his look that he came with great authority. And he went to the king’s library, to that room which was as wide as a lawn and as high as a tree, and filled with mystery, and waited for her, knowing that she would come. She entered the room almost timidly, as, once upon a time, the little furnace boy had entered. And when she saw him waiting for her before the window-seat, nothing could have exceeded her terror and her wonder and her delight. And now her eyes were looking down, and she did _not_ ask him what he was doing there. “Oh, Princess Vista,” he said softly, “I love you. I want to be loved!” “Who are you--that want so much?” the princess asked--but her eyes knew, and her smile knew. “Someone who has brought back your picture-book,” said Prince Hazen. “I pray you, teach it to me again.” “Nay,” said the princess, softly, “I have taught you a wrong thing. For I have taught you that there are many suns. And instead there is only one sun, and it brings only one day--and that day is this day!” It was so that she welcomed him back. They went to the king, her father, and told him everything. And when he knew that his daughter loved Prince Hazen, he restored his kingdom to him, and named him his own successor. And Hazen was crowned king, with much magnificence, and his father’s courtiers, who were living, were returned to his court, and that wise, wonderful old man, who had shown him the inside of his own head, was given a place of honour near the king. But on the day of the coronation, louder than the shouts of the people, and nearer even than the voice of his queen, sounded that voice of the wise and good Self, which was but the Thought, deep within the soul of the king:-- “Hail to Hazen--King of All His Selves!” XVI THE WALK “What’s the latest you ever stayed up?” Delia demanded of Mary Elizabeth and me. “I sat up till ten o’clock once when my aunt was coming,” I boasted. “Once I was on a train that got in at twelve o’clock,” said Mary Elizabeth, thoughtfully, “but I was asleep till the train got in. Would you call that sitting up till twelve o’clock?” On the whole, Delia and I decided that you could not impartially call it so, and Mary Elizabeth conceded the point. Her next best experience was dated at only half past nine. “I was up till eleven o’clock lots of times.” Delia threw out carelessly. We regarded her with awe. Here was another glory for her list. Already we knew that she had slept in a sleeping car, patted an elephant, and swum four strokes. “What’s the earliest you ever got up?” Delia pursued. Here, too, we proved to have nothing to compete with the order of Delia’s risings. However, this might yet be mended. There seemed never to be the same household ban on getting up early that there was on staying up late. “Let’s get up some morning before four o’clock and take a walk,” I suggested.