English queen. But he was just as haughty as
she, and was not a bit afraid of her. She looked
down on him from her throne (she was very stately,
you know, and she wore a crown, and a great stiff
ruff, and her dress was all covered with gold and
precious stones), and asked him how he dared to undertake
such a desperate and presumptuous enterprise.
And Buccleugh—O Bubble, I always liked
this so much!—Buccleugh just looked her
full in the face, and said, ‘What is it a man
dare not do?’ Now Queen Elizabeth liked nothing
so much as a brave man, and this bold answer pleased
her. She turned to one of her ministers and said,
’With ten thousand such men our brother in Scotland
might shake the firmest throne in Europe.’
And so she let him go, just because he was so brave
and so handsome.”
Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, and his eyes flashed.
“I wish’t I’d ben alive then!”
he said.
“Why, Bubble?” asked Hilda, much amused;
“what would you have done?”
“I’d ha’ killed Lord Scroope!”
he cried,—“him and the hull kit of
’em. Besides,” he added, “I’d
like t’ ha’ lived then jest ter see him,—jest
ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that’s what I
call a man!” And Queen Hildegardis fully agreed
with him.
They had nearly reached the house when the boy asked:
“If that king was her brother, why did she treat
him so kind o’ ugly? My sister don’t
act that way.”
“What—oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!”
said Hilda, laughing. “King James was not
her brother, Bubble. They were cousins, but nothing
more.”
“You said she said ‘brother,’”
persisted the boy.
“So I did,” replied Hilda. “You
see, it was the fashion, and is still, for kings and
queens to call each other brother and sister,
whether they were really related to each other or
not.”
“But I thought they was always fightin’,”
objected Bubble. “I’ve got a hist’ry
book to home, an’ in that it says they fit like
time whenever they got a chance.”
“So they did,” said Hilda. “But
they called each other ’our royal brother’
and ‘our beloved sister;’ and they were
always paying each other fine compliments, and saying
how much they loved each other, even in the middle
of a war, when they were fighting as hard as they could.”
“Humph!” said Bubble, “nice kind
o folks they must ha’ been. Well, I must
go, Miss Hildy,” he added, reluctantly.
“I’ve had a splendid time, an’ I’m
real obleeged to ye. I sh’ll try
to larn that story by heart, ’bout the bold
Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! She’d
like it—oh, my! wouldn’t she like
it, jest like—I mean jest like spellin’!
Good by, Miss Hildy!” And Bubble ran off to bring
home the cows, his little heart swelling high with
scorn of kings and queens, and with a fervor of devotion
to Walter Scott, first lord of Buccleugh.
PINK CHIRK.
