  Thou hast company.”

“Ah, my King,” cried Hendon, colouring slightly, “do not thou condemn
me--wait, and thou shalt see.  I am no impostor--she will say it; you
shall hear it from the sweetest lips in England.  I an impostor?  Why, I
know this old hall, these pictures of my ancestors, and all these things
that are about us, as a child knoweth its own nursery.