"By the way, sir," he said, "in a week or two I shall be sending you my book."
"I am afraid it is going to shock people," said his father.
"Not nearly so much as this." Max touched his breast pocket and smiled. "I will confess now, sir, that I really had hardly a hope: if I said so just now, I lied. And if a son may ever tell his father that he is proud of him, let that pleasure to-day be mine."
They parted on the best of terms. "I wonder," thought the King to himself, "whether he will be quite so pleased and proud two months hence."
His countenance saddened, and he sighed. "Poor boy," he said. He was very fond of Max.
CHAPTER XIV
HEADS OR TAILS
I
It is no use pretending that all history is equally interesting, even though the facts which it contains are necessary for an understanding of what follows. And I am well aware that much of this history so far has been very dull. We have been exploring interiors, moldy institutions, cast-iron conventions, and one poor human mind,—with a tap on the back of its head as an incentive—wriggling to find a way out. But from this point on you see him wriggling no more; the slow wave of his resolve has crept to its crest and now breaks into foam.