At this the hard hearts relented altogether, and Harold rushed out and gave Albert a toss in the air that was very threatening to the eggs in the luncheon basket; and as soon as he was on _terra firma_ again Marie-Celeste gave him a good hard hug, and both begged his pardon half a dozen times over for ever assuming for a moment that he was “too little,” and intimated that they felt very small indeed themselves to think they had been so unfeeling as to plan not to include him in the expedition. And so matters were beautifully adjusted, and the Knight-of-the-Garter party set out with Harold Harris, student and devoted admirer of the grand old knighthood, filling the important _role_ of interpreter and guide. And where did they go first but to the castle, preferring to save until the last, because the best, the choir of St. George's, where the banners of the knights are hung and where the knights are duly installed. On the way Harold held forth, Marie-Celeste and Donald walking one on either side of him, and Albert, determined not to miss a word, trotting along at a sort of sidewise angle just in front, and yet careful to keep well out of the way, too, for fear of the remotest chance of “boddering.”