Then the dwarf vanished, and Tom flew to Offal Court with his prize, saying

to himself, 'Every night will I give my father a penny; he will think I begged it,

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It will glad his heart, and I shall no more be beaten. One penny every week the

Good priest that teacheth me shall have; mother, Nan, and Bet the other four.

We be done with hunger and rags now, done with fears and frets and savage

usage.'

In his dream he reached his sordid home all out of breath, but with eyes

dancing with grateful enthusiasm; cast four of his pennies into his mother's

lap and cried out:

'They are for thee! — all of them, every one! — for thee and Nan and Bet —

and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!'

The happy and astonished mother strained him to her breast and exclaimed:

'It waxeth late — may it please your majesty to rise?'

Ah, that was not the answer he was expecting. The dream had snapped

Asunder — he was awake.

He opened his eyes — the richly clad First Lord of the Bedchamber was

Kneeling by his couch. The gladness of the lying dream faded away — the

Poor boy recognized that he was still a captive and a king. The room was filled

With courtiers clothed in purple mantles — the mourning color — and with

Noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and gazed out from the

Heavy silken curtains upon this fine company.