AS soon as Miles Hendon and the little prince were clear of the mob, they

Struck down through back lanes and alleys toward the river. Their way was

Unobstructed until they approached London Bridge; then they plowed into the

multitude again, Hendon keeping a fast grip upon the prince's — no, the

king's — wrist. The tremendous news was already abroad, and the boy

learned it from a thousand voices at once — 'The king is dead!' The tidings

Struck a chill to the heart of the poor little waif, and sent a shudder through

His frame. He realized the greatness of his loss, and was filled with a bitter

Grief; for the grim tyrant who had been such a terror to others had always

Been gentle with him. The tears sprung to his eyes and blurred all objects. For

an instant he felt himself the most forlorn, outcast, and forsaken of God's

creatures — then another cry shook the night with its far-reaching thunders:

'Long live King Edward the Sixth!' and this made his eyes kindle, and thrilled

him with pride to his fingers' ends. 'Ah,' he thought, 'how grand and strange

it seems — I AM KING!'

Our friends threaded their way slowly through the throngs upon the Bridge.

This structure, which had stood for six hundred years, and had been a noisy

Мультиязыковой проект Ильи Франка www.franklang.ru

And populous thoroughfare all that time, was a curious affair, for a closely