Let Harold hold forth as eloquently as he chose about this old knight or that old armor, for him there might never be another visit to this wonderful place, and he was going to see it all in his own way. Harold and Marie-Celeste were at first very much disgusted at his utter disregard of the object of their visit, but disgust gradually gave way to amusement, and the tale of the chivalrous old knights was even suspended for awhile, that they might watch the little fellow's peculiar methods of letting nothing escape him. Gazing in rapt wonder, he moved from one point to another, wholly absorbed in his surroundings, and oblivious to the presence of any one beside himself. Now he was standing in admiration before the great oak chair of State beneath the organ gallery, and now nothing loath he mounts the steps that lead to it and runs a finger along the curves of its elaborate carving, and then, with a most reverent air, touches the embroidered cross and garter with which it is decorated. All this is making very free with State belongings, and one of the guides, in charge of a small party of visitors, starts toward him in a decidedly menacing manner; but Harold intercepts him and explains, and the guide, himself much amused, decides to leave unmolested this gallant little tar of Her Majesty's. And now Donald seeks out a corner of the room and deliberately stretches himself on the floor, clasping his hands under the back of his head. This is done the better to take in the elaborate ceiling, decorated as it is with the armorial bearings of the knights of five centuries, and now, with arm upraised and extended finger, he is entering into some mathematical calculation of his own in connection with the banners that hang just beneath the ceiling. And now what does the boy do but suddenly exchange his vertical position for one quite the reverse, and turn all his attention to the carpet; for did not Harold say it was woven in some special way on purpose? Yes, sure enough! here is the Cross of St. George in the centre of each little panel, and here—crossing to the edge of the room—the beautiful circle of the gaiter worked into the design of the border. Oh, but it is a wonderful place! and there are probably other rooms just as wonderful; so a little closer look at the brass shields and the helmets, and the portraits of the sovereigns ranged along one side, and then, wholly unsuspicious of any disapproval, he walks over to the children and remarks “that now he would like to see the other rooms, please.” His delight in it all, and naïve unconsciousness of anything unusual in his behavior, are altogether irresistible, and Harold and Marie-Celeste, after a whispered conference, decide to suspend Knight-of-the-Garter reminiscences for the time being, and make the tour of the castle with him. Albert, who has found much of Harold's narration quite beyond him, but has “never let on” for one moment, hails the announcement with great inward rejoicing, and the little quartette make their way to the Guard Chamber, as the place next in interest. In every room Donald brings his own peculiar methods of investigation to bear, not in the least minding a good deal of mirthful laughter at his expense on the part of Harold and Marie-Celeste; and Albert, feeling privileged to join in the general merriment, though evidently half the time without in anywise appreciating the situation, only helps on the jollity of things. Then when at noon, by special permission of a very lenient guardsman, the children establish themselves for luncheon on a terrace beneath the shade of the Round Tower, Marie-Celeste and Albert and Harold agree that they had never had such fun—never!
“Well, you may call it fun,” says Donald, quite willing that they should, “but I call it something better than that. The grandest time I ever had, that's what I call it.”
But all the sights were not seen yet, and for the members of the little party who still adhered to the Knight-of-the-Garter research the best was yet to come, in St. George's Chapel. Entering at the door at the south front and crossing to the centre, the children passed directly into the choir, which is really a chapel in itself, and to them of special interest, because the very place where the ceremony of installing' the knights is performed. Harold led the way to the farther end, and they took their seats on the steps of the chancel. Behind them the light fell softly through the stained glass of the window over the altar; above them waved the knights' silken banners, and just below each banner hung the sword, mantle, and helmet of the knight whose crest it bore, mounted against a background of elaborate carving. It was of course the spot of spots for any one who, like Harold, had been initiated into all the mysteries by being present at an installation, and he did justice to the occasion. By this time even Donald, whose powers of endurance were not yet of the strongest, was content to sit by, an apparent listener; but much that Harold had to tell having little interest for him, he resorted to that little trick to which some discriminating ears readily lend themselves, of listening to what appealed to him and letting the rest go. With Albert matters were reversed. He had completely lapsed from his humble estate of the morning, when he felt in duty bound to at least pretend to be an attentive listener, and when they reached the chapel, already such a familiar place to him, he no longer even tried to keep up appearances. A great big collie belonging to the verger, Mr. Brown, sometimes made so bold as to steal in “unbeknownst” and curl up on the cool marble in a dark corner of the choir, and Albert, who knew the corner well, at once slipped away in the hope of finding him.
Yes, there he was in the old place—dear, audacious old Timothy, stretched close along the wall in the deep shadow of the Oueen's own stall, as though well aware that it was the one spot where he might reasonably expect to escape observation.
“Hush, Timothy,” said Albert, approaching him on tiptoe; but the warning was quite unnecessary. Nothing was farther from Timothy's thoughts than to make any disturbance whatever—why should he? Were they not the best of friends, he and that blessed little Albert? so he never raised his head from where it rested upon his outstretched paws, only looked up with that gaze of implicit confidence peculiar to the kind eyes of the Laverick setter, and which made Albert lose not a second in spreading his little coat out beneath him, throwing his two arms around Timothy's neck, and pillowing his head on his beautiful silky coat. Now, it is not granted to Laverick setters to purr in pussy's demonstrative fashion, but they have a subdued little grateful purr of their own, distinctly audible to an ear placed as close as Albert's chanced to be, and Timothy at once indulged in the same. Outwardly, however, not a sound was to be heard. Only the experienced eye and ear could appreciate how intense were the depths of his canine satisfaction.
“We've had an awful good time this morning, Timothy,” Albert confided in a whisper; “we've been all over the castle, learning 'bout Knights of the Garter. Harold knows an awful lot about 'em, but I'm tired of 'em, an' I don't care to hear any more. I'd rather stay here wid you, Timothy. There, please move that paw a little—that's it; now, Timothy, keep very still! Please, please don't snap for that fly, or they'll hear you; still! still, Timothy, while I stroke your head like this, till, till—” and the subject was dropped indefinitely.
“Now, if there are any questions you would like to ask?” said Harold, for, dear as was the subject to him, he really could think of nothing more to tell.