“Made a Knight?” for Marie-Celeste had an idea that the article was born, not made.
“Why, of course, Marie-Celeste; that is, when a man is a great man to start with, and then does something to make himself greater, the Queen may reward him by permitting him to become a member of the Order, if there happens to be a vacancy; and there's nothing much finer can happen to a man than that.”
“But there isn't any real garter business about it now, is there?” asked Donald.
“Indeed there is. To every new Knight made the Queen gives a dark blue velvet garter, and what's more, they are never to appear in public without them, unless booted for riding, and then they are allowed to wear a ribbon of blue silk under their left boot instead. And there's lots more that's awfully interesting about the Knights; and I tell you what, some day, when Donald's stronger, we'll go up to the castle and St. George's Chapel, and sort of spend the day with the Knights, looking at everything that belongs to them. But now you know something of what the crests on the ceiling of the Banqueting Hall mean, and the shields in the panels along the sides, that are waiting for the crests of the Knights that may hereafter be admitted into the Order. In fact, everything in that room has to do with the Knights. The Garter and the Cross of St. George are even woven into the pattern of the carpet.”
“Oh, dear me!” sighed Marie-Celeste; “I know very little, indeed, about St. George; and was there ever any place like Windsor for showing you how little you do know, anyway?”
“No, Marie-Celeste, there never was,” chimed in Mrs. Harris; for both she and Mr. Harris had been listening with interest to Donald; “but you ought not to mind that as much as we older folks, who are expected to know a great deal more than you little people. Why, when we first went through the castle the other day with Canon Allyn, I was half afraid to open my lips, for fear of betraying some new ignorance.”
“Well, I wouldn't be afraid any more; you know twice as much as most ladies;” for Harold was already the devoted champion of Aunt Lou, and lost no opportunity for proving his devotion.
“Now, go on with the castle, please,” urged Donald, secretly hoping there would be no more interruptions.
“Oh, well,” said Marie-Celeste with a sigh, as though becoming oppressed with the greatness of her undertaking; “besides the Banqueting Hall there's the Grand Reception-Room, with a beautiful plate-glass window forming almost all of one end of it, and there's the Waterloo Room, filled with portraits of officers who fought there, and then, in a place they call the Grand Vestibule, there's a splendid statue of the Queen. Everything's grand, you see, wherever you turn.”
“Well, Oueen or no, I'm sure I shouldn't like to have everything so tearing grand,” said Donald, more expressively than elegantly.