Of that last meeting with King Christian I mean to let my American
fellow-citizens know so that they may understand what manner of man
is he whom they call in Europe its "first gentleman" and in Denmark
"the good King." But first I shall have to tell how my father
came to wear the cross of Dannebrog. He was very old at the time;
retired long since from his post which he had filled faithfully
forty years and more. In some way, I never knew quite how, they
passed him by with the cross at the time of the retirement. Perhaps
he had given offence by refusing a title. He was an independent old
man, and cared nothing for such things; but I knew that the cross
he would gladly have worn for the King he had served so well. And
when he sat in the shadow, with the darkness closing in, I planned
to get it for him as the one thing I knew would give him pleasure.
But the official red tape was stronger than I; until one day, roused
to anger by it all, I wrote direct to the King and told him about
it. I showed him the wrong that had been done, and told him that I
was sure he would set it right as soon as he knew of it.
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