"Bless the child," said Nurse. "You don't suppose you've lost the use of your legs with just being a King? Run along, do, and get your books yourself."
So Lionel went down into the library. The Prime Minister and the Chancellor were there, and when Lionel came in they bowed very low, and were beginning to ask Lionel most politely what on earth he was coming bothering for now—when Lionel cried out: "Oh, what a worldful of books! Are they yours?"
"They are yours, Your Majesty," answered the Chancellor. "They were the property of the late King, your great-great—"
"Yes, I know," Lionel interrupted. "Well, I shall read them all. I love to read. I am so glad I learned to read."
"If I might venture to advise Your Majesty," said the Prime Minister, "I should not read these books. Your great—"
"Yes?" said Lionel, quickly.
"He was a very good King—oh, yes, really a very superior King in his way, but he was a little—well, strange."
"Mad?" asked Lionel, cheerfully.
"No, no"—both the gentlemen were sincerely shocked. "Not mad; but if I may express it so, he was—er—too clever by half. And I should not like a little King of mine to have anything to do with his books."
Lionel looked puzzled.