"Yes. They let him sit up to see them," the King acknowledged hastily. "And there were illuminated aeroplanes over the palace. And "God Save the King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second," in letters of fire, on all the houses—"
"Here's mother," Button announced.
Judith appeared, advancing through the trees.
Button ran to meet her.
Bill remained faithful to the King's knee.
The King frowned. He understood, suddenly, he thought, why Judith had sent the Imps to wake him. The Imps were protection, safety. Judith was right, of course. It was wise of her to take such precautions—in self-defence. And yet, somehow, at the moment, he resented her wisdom.
"You have had a good sleep, Alfred," Judith said, smiling pleasantly, as she halted beside him. "It is nearly six o'clock now. We came, and looked at you, at tea-time, but you were so fast asleep, it seemed a shame to wake you."
The King's resentment fell from him. He felt ashamed of himself. It was of him, and not of herself—did she ever think of herself?—that Judith had been thinking.
"I feel very much better, thank you. The rest has done me good," he said.
"Uncle Alfred has been telling us about the King, mother," Button explained. "He says he doesn't think the King likes being King very much. He can't do what he likes, just as you said. They won't let him wear his sword even, and he can't fight for himself. He has to let other people fight for him. I'm glad I'm not King. I'd rather be a sailor, and wear daddy's sword."