Frank gave an indignant start.
“There, there! Don’t be cross. I won’t say any more. You ask the King. He’s only a man, if he is a king; and if he doesn’t grant your petition, I shall hate him ten times as much as I do now. Why, what a fellow you are! You’re all of a tremble, and your face is quite white.”
“Is it?” said Frank, with a strange little gasp.
“Yes; either thinking about that petition, or the sight of your poor, dismal old house, or both of them, have regularly upset you. Come along, and don’t think about them. I must say this, though, for I want to be honest: if I were placed as you are, with a father who had stood so high in George’s service, I think perhaps I should be ready to do what the doctor said for the sake of my mother if she was alive.”
Again Frank gave his companion that wistful look, and his lips parted, but no words came; and they went on down by the water-side, without noticing that a shabby-looking man was slouching along behind them, throwing himself down upon the grass, as if idling away the time. And all the while that the two lads were in the Park he kept them in sight, sometimes close at hand, sometimes distant, but always ready to follow them when they went on.
Frank noticed it at last, as they were standing by the water’s edge, and whispered his suspicions that they were being watched.
“Who by? That ragged-looking fellow yonder?”
“Yes; don’t take any notice.”
“No, I’m not going to,” said Andrew, stooping to pick up a stone and send it flying over the water. “Spy, perhaps. Well, we’re not feeding the ducks to-day. He’s a spy for a crown. Well, let him spy. The place is full of them. I’ve a good mind to lead him a good round, and disappoint him. No, I will not; it might lead to our being arrested for doing nothing, and what would be the good of doing that?”
The man did his work well, for he kept them in sight without seeming to be looking at them once, till they went back to the Palace, where they parted for a time, and Andrew said to himself: