Her grandmother entering once while she was
pretending to make porridge in it, held up her hands in
horror-struck amazement; but the king would not allow her to
interfere, for the king was now Barbara's playmate, and his crown
their plaything.
The colonel of the guard also was growing better. Curdie went
often to see him. They were soon friends, for the best people
understand each other the easiest, and the grim old warrior loved
the miner boy as if he were at once his son and his angel. He was
very anxious about his regiment. He said the officers were mostly
honest men, he believed, but how they might be doing without him,
or what they might resolve, in ignorance of the real state of
affairs, and exposed to every misrepresentation, who could tell?
Curdie proposed that he should send for the major, offering to be
the messenger. The colonel agreed, and Curdie went - not without
his mattock, because of the dogs.
But the officers had been told by the master of the horse that
their colonel was dead, and although they were amazed he should be
buried without the attendance of his regiment, they never doubted
the information. The handwriting itself of their colonel was
insufficient, counteracted by the fresh reports daily current, to
destroy the lie. The major regarded the letter as a trap for the
next officer in command, and sent his orderly to arrest the
messenger.
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