The North wind doth blow,And we ought to have snow,If ’tis true what my nurse used to sing,Poor thing.Yet up in yon treeRobin Redbreast I seeAs happy and gay as a king,Poor thing.Look! as true as I live,There’s a boy with a sieveAnd a stick and a long piece of string,Poor thing.But the bird doesn’t care,For I hear him declare,“Pooh! the old dodge he tried in the Spring,Poor thing.”“What ridiculous cheek,”And he turns up his beakEre he tucks his head under his wing,Poor thing.The poor Rhymester was very disappointed at not being able to publish more of his poems, so the Doctor-in-Law, to console him, allowed him to contributean article on “Fashions for the Month by Our Paris Model.” He made a frightful muddle of it though, not knowing the proper terms in which to describe the various materials and styles. Here is an extract, which will show you better than I can tell, the stupid blunders which he made:“Hats this season are principally worn on the head, and may be trimmed with light gauzy stuff wobbled round the crown mixed up with various coloured ribbons, and bunches of artificial flowers and fruit.“Artificial vegetables are not much worn, although a cauliflower or two and a bunch of carrots, with a few cabbages, would form a striking and novel decoration for a hat. If this trimming is considered insufficient, a few brightly coloured tomatoes stuck round the brim might be added, and would render the head-gear particularly ‘chic.’“Hats for the theatre should be worn large and handsomely trimmed, but for the economically inclined—a last year’s clothes basket trimmed with art muslin, which may be purchased of any good draper at 1-¾d. a yard, cut on the cross and tucked with chiffons, would form a sweetly simple hat, and if tied beneath the chin with an aigrette, and the front filled in with sequins, it would readily be mistaken for one of the new early Victorian bonnets which continue to be worn by the upper housemaids in most aristocratic families.“I hear that dresses are to be worn again this year by ladies. The most fashionable ones will be made of various sorts of material.“A charming walking costume suitable for the Autumn may be made of shaded grenadine, trimmed with buckram pom-poms, made up on the selvedge edge.”There was a lot more nonsense of this kind which I did not at all understand, but which some lady friends who understood these things made great fun of.You will be surprised, no doubt, to hear that in a weak moment I allowed myself to be persuaded into contributing a little experience of my own.The Rhymester told me that it was shockingly bad rhyme, but I think that he was jealous because the Doctor-in-Law published it. Anyhow, here it is, so you can judge for yourself. I call itHE and I and IT.Oh HE was a PublisherAnd I was a Publishee,And IT was a bookWhich the Publisher tookAnd pub-l-i-s-h-e-d.The Publisher’s smile it was bland,’Twas a beautiful smile to see,As again and againHe took pains to explainHow large my “half-profits”mightbe.IT had a capital sale,Well reviewed by theTimesandD.T.,And a great many more,So my friends by the scoreCame around to congratulate me.IT had a capital saleAnd people I scarcely had met,Just “dropped in” to afternoon tea;While my aunt, who’s a swell,Nowremembered quite wellThat I was related to she.And girls that were rich and plain,Or pretty and poor, did agreeTo let me supposeThat I’d but to proposeTo be m-a-r-r-i-e-d.my friends all turned tailYes, HE published IT in the Spring,That season of frolic and glee;“In the Autumn,” HE said,Gravely nodding his head,“‘Half-profits’ will mean L.S.D.”But Autumn has come and gone,And I’m so to say, “All at sea,”For HE sobs and HE sighsAnd HE turns up his eyesWhen I ask what my “half-profits” be.There are “charges for this, and for that,”And for “things that HE couldn’t foresee,”And HE “very much fears,”So he says twixt his tears,“That there won’t be a penny for me.”Oh! rich is the PublisherAnd poor is the Publishee;Of the profits of ITI shall touch not a bit,They are all swallowed up by HE.The girls now all treat me with scorn—Aunt turns up her n-o-s-e,And my friends all turn tail,While my book they assailAnd call rubbish and twad-d-l-e.Even One-and-Nine and General Mary Jane were smitten with a desire to rush into print, and I overheard them concocting a tragic Love Story in the kitchen, and they were highly indignant later on, because the Doctor-in-Law would not accept it. You can hardly wonder at it though, for it really was too bad for anything.It was called “The Viscount’s Revenge,” and in it several characters who had been killed in the first part of the book kept cropping up all through the story in a most confusing manner, while One-and-Nine andGeneral Mary Jane could not agree as to whether the heroine should be dark or fair, so in one part of the book she had beautiful golden hair and blue eyes, and in another she was described as “darkly, proudly handsome, with a wealth of dusky hair and eyes as black as night.”the literary housemaidAt the last moment it was found necessary to include another poem in the magazine, and, as all of the Rhymester’s were too long, the Doctor-in-Law decided to write one himself, which he calledCOMMERCIAL PROBLEMS.Why doth the little busy beeNot charge so much an hour,For gathering honey day by dayFrom every opening flower?And can you tell me why, good sir,The birds receive no payFor singing sweetly in the groveThroughout the livelong day?Why flow’rs should bloom about the placeAnd give their perfume free,In so unbusinesslike a way,Seems very odd to me.I cannot meet a single cowThat charges for her milk,And though they are not paid a sou,The silkworms still spin silk.While ducks and hens, I grieve to find,Lay eggs for nothing too,Which is a most ridiculousAnd foolish thing to do.These problems often puzzle me;I lie awake at night,And think and think what I can doTo set this matter right.I’ve found a way at last, and thoughIt may at first seem funny,It cannot fail—’tis this:Youpay,AndI’llcollect the money.CHAPTER XTHE WALLYPUG GOES TO WINDSORWhile they were all busy in the preparation ofThe Wallypug’s Own, I thought it an excellent opportunity to run down to Folkestone in order to make arrangements for hiring a house, as I intended taking my guests to the seaside for a few weeks.I felt a little anxious about leaving them to themselves, but hoped that they would be too busy and interested in the new magazine to get into trouble.It was most unfortunate that I should have gone just then though, for directly I had left the Wallypug received a polite letter from one of the Court officials to say that the Queen would be pleased to receive his Majesty and suite at Windsor on the following day.a royal invitationOf course, as you may imagine, the Wallypugwas in a great state of excitement at receiving this royal invitation, and wished to telegraph at once for me to return and advise them how to act and what to do, on this important occasion; however, the Doctor-in-Law, so I have been given to understand, persuaded his Majesty not to do anything of the sort, and added that I “was always poking about and interfering, and was better out of the way”; so his Majesty, who was very anxious to do the right thing, consulted Mrs. Putchy as tothe proper costume to be worn, and the etiquette to be observed.“Well, your Majesty,” remarked Mrs. Putchy in reply, “I scarcely know what to advise. When in my younger days, I acted as lady’s maid to the Countess of Wembley, I know her ladyship wore a Court train and carried a bouquet when she was presented to the Queen.”“Where did the engine go?” asked his Majesty curiously.“The engine!” exclaimed Mrs. Putchy.“Yes; you said she wore a train, didn’t you?” said the Wallypug.“Oh! but I didn’t mean that kind of train,” laughed Mrs. Putchy; “I meant a long sort of cloak fastened on to the shoulders and trailing along the ground at the back—they are generally made of satin and velvet, and are decorated with flowers and feathers and lace, and that sort of thing. Your Majesty’s cloak would do nicely if I trimmed it for you.”“But are you sure that gentlemen wear these sort of things?” inquired the Wallypug.“Well, I couldn’t rightly say, your Majesty, but I’m sure I’ve seen pictures of kings and such like wearing trains which were borne bypages, so I feel sure your Majesty would be safe in wearing one.”So it was arranged that, after having been carefully brushed, his Majesty’s velvet cloak was to be gaily decorated with lace and large bunches of flowers, and, to make the thing complete, a large bouquet was tied around his sceptre, and, at the Rhymester’s suggestion, little knots of flowers were attached to the knobs of his Majesty’s crown.The little man was highly delighted with his appearance when all these arrangements were concluded, and could get but very little sleep that night for thinking of the great honour which was to be his the next day.The whole household was early astir in the morning, and at about eleven o’clock the carriage came to take the royal guests to the station.Arrived at Waterloo, the Doctor-in-Law, after making various inquiries as to the price of the tickets, etc., actually had the meanness, despite the remonstrance of the railway officials, to insist upon the whole party travelling down third-class, remarking that he “found the third-class carriages reached there quite assoon as the first, and a penny saved was a penny gained.”The station master at Windsor was particularly put out about it, as, in honour of his Majesty’s visit, the station had been gaily decorated and a carpet laid down to the carriage door. His Majesty, however, made a brave show as he walked up the platform preceded by the Doctor-in-Law, his gaily decorated train borne by the Rhymester, and followed by A. Fish, Esq., and One-and-Nine, the latter carrying a mysterious bandbox, which contained a present from the Wallypug to her Majesty. (Seefrontispiece.)Inside and out the station was crowded with curious spectators, all eager to catch a glimpse of his Majesty and his remarkable retinue, and cheer after cheer resounded as the station master, bare-headed and bowing, ushered the party to the royal carriage with the red and gold-liveried servants, which had been sent from the castle to meet them.The bells were ringing, and the streets were crowded as they drove through the old town, and his Majesty thoroughly enjoyed the drive, while the Doctor-in-Law was quitein his element amidst all this fuss and excitement.I did not care to inquire too fully into the details of his Majesty’s interview with the Queen, but I was given to understand that the whole party was treated with the utmost kindness.Her Majesty graciously accepted at the Wallypug’s hands a gilded crown, an exact copy of the one he wore himself, and which he had had made expressly for her Majesty, having been struck by the fact that her Majesty’s real crown was always kept locked up in the Tower, and hoping that perhaps this one would do for second best.I could not gather that her Majesty had actually promised to wear it, but I do know that the Wallypug was made exceedingly proud and happy by the gift of a portrait of her Majesty herself, with the royal autograph attached, and that he will always remember the occasion of his visit to Windsor, and the kindness with which he was treated by everyone, particularly by the little Princes and Princesses, her Majesty’s great grand-children, who led him about the Castle grounds, andshowed him their pets, and the flowers, and conservatories, and all the wonderful sights of that wonderful place.In the evening there was a dinner party, at which her Majesty did not appear, and early the next morning a royal carriage again drove them to the stationen routefor London.All this I learned on my return from Folkestone. I also heard of an extraordinary evening party which had been given at my house during my absence. It appears that the invitations had been sent out by the Doctor-in-Law the very day upon which I left, and about thirty guests, including the Duchess of Mortlake, had been invited. Unfortunately, however, this visit to Windsor had entirely driven the matter from the Wallypug’s mind, and the others had forgotten about it too, and so a pretty confusion was the result.It appears that one evening about seven o’clock they were all in the kitchen making toffee, having persuaded Mrs. Putchy to let them have the frying-pan and some sugar and butter, and it having been cooking for some time the Doctor-in-Law had just told the Wallypug to stick his finger in and see if itwas done, when Mrs. Putchy came in to say that some ladies and gentlemen had arrived, and were waiting in the drawing-room.to see if it was doneAll of a sudden it flashed upon their minds thatthiswas the evening upon which they had invited their visitors to the party. Whatever was to be done? Not the slightest preparation had been made—and his Majesty and the others were all more or less in a sticky condition, and quite unfit to be seen by company.A hurried consultation took place, during which they could hear more and more guests arriving, and at last, by a brilliant inspiration, the Doctor-in-Law thought of making it a surprise party, similar to those given in America.“It won’t cost us anything either,” he remarked complacently.“But what is a surprise party?” asked the others.“Never mind, you’ll see presently,” remarked the little man. “Run and wash your hands now and make yourselves tidy.”A few minutes later the whole party filed into the drawing-room, the Wallypug looking rather blank and nervous, and the Doctor-in-Law full of profuse apologies for having kept the guests waiting so long.“By the way,” he remarked airily, “I suppose you all know that it’s a surprise party.”“Dear me, no,” said the Duchess of Mortlake, speaking for the others. “Whatever is that; I don’t think it was mentioned on the cards of invitation, was it?”“Ah! a trifling oversight,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law. “A surprise party,” he continued in explanation, “is one at which eachguest is expected to contribute something towards the supper—some bring one thing and some another. What have you brought, may I ask, your Grace?”“Well, really,” said the Duchess, “I’ve never heard of such a thing in my life before. I’ve not brought anything at all, of course; I’m surprised at your asking me such a question.”“Ah, yes, just so,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law triumphantly, “just what I told you—asurpriseparty, don’t you see! Now, what I would advise is that you should all go out and order various things to be sent in for supper; we, for our part, will provide some excellent toffee, and then you can come back and help us to set the tables and all that sort of thing, you know—it’s the greatest fun in the world, I assure you.”And really the little man carried it off with such gaiety, that entering into the spirit of the thing the guests really did as he suggested, and went out and ordered the things, and afterwards came back, and, amidst great laughter and fun, the tables were laid, every one doing some share of the work, with the exception of the Doctor-in-Law, who contented himself with directing the others and chatting to the ladies.the wallypug helpsThe poor dear Wallypug amiably toiled backward and forward between the kitchen and dining-room with great piles of plates and other heavy articles, and A. Fish, Esq., in his eagerness to help, was continually treading on his own tail, upsetting himself and the various dishes entrusted to his charge.a. fish, esq., upsetAt last, however, the supper was set, and the merriest evening you can possibly imagine was spent by the guests. His Majesty wasin capital spirits, and after supper suggested a little dancing, which suggestion was hailed with delight by the others, and, having moved some of the furniture out of the drawing-room and pushed the rest away into corners, the Wallypug led off with her Grace the Duchess of Mortlake, and quite distinguished himself in “Sir Roger de Coverley.” Afterwards there was a little singing and music, several of the guests contributing to the evening’s entertainment. Amongst other items was a song by A. Fish, Esq., rendered as well as his bad cold would permit, of which the first lines ran:I’b siddig here ad lookig at the bood, love,Ad thinkig ov the habby days of old,Wed you ad I had each a wooded spood, love,To eat our porridge wed we had a cold.Altogether the evening was such a success that her Grace declared that it should not be her fault if surprise parties were not the fashion in Society during the coming winter.CHAPTER XIHIS MAJESTY AT THE SEASIDEI sent Mrs. Putchy and General Mary Jane down to the house, which I had engaged on the “Lees” at Folkestone, the day before we were to go, in order to see that everything was ready for us.“The only thing that is wrong is the kitchen chimney, and that smokes, sir,” said Mrs. Putchy, in answer to my inquiry on the night of our arrival. “I think that we had better have the sweep in the morning, sir.”“Very well, Mrs. Putchy, I’m sure you know best,” I replied, and thought no more of the matter.Early in the morning, however, I was awakened by screams and cries proceeding from the lower part of the house.“Help! help! Burglars! Fire and police!Thieves!” screamed a voice, and hastily dressing myself, I rushed out into the passage, and was confronted by the Rhymester, who had evidently just jumped out of bed, and who, though it was broad daylight, bore a lighted candle in one hand, and a pair of fire tongs in the other.His teeth were chattering with fright, and his knees were knocking together from the same cause.“What’s the matter,” I asked in alarm.“Oh! oh! there are burglars in the house,” he cried excitedly, “and the others have gone down to them; I’m sure they’ll be killed—I told them not to go, but they would. Let’s go and hide under a bed somewhere. Oh! oh, what will become of us?”“Don’t be such a coward,” I cried, hurrying down stairs, while the poor little Rhymester, afraid to be left alone upstairs, tremblingly followed.Sure enough there was a sound of struggling going on, and voices raised in loud dispute.“Oh, that story won’t do for me,” I heard the Doctor-in-Law exclaim.“But I tell yez, sor,” chimed in another strange voice, “I waz only going to——”“Never mind what you were going to do, give up the sack,” said the Doctor-in-Law.Then there were sounds of struggling, and amidst the confusion a voice saying:“Hold him down! Sit on him! That’s right! Now for the sack.”And, bursting the door open, a curious sight met my eyes. A poor sweep lay flat upon the floor, with the Wallypug sitting upon him, and One-and-Nine keeping guard; while the Doctor-in-Law and A. Fish, Esq., examined his bag of soot in the corner. The poor little Rhymester summoned up sufficient courage to peep in at the doorway, and stood there making a piteous picture, with his white face and trembling limbs.“Whatever is the matter,” I inquired as soon as I entered.“We’ve caught him!” exclaimed his Majesty, complacently wriggling his toes about.“But what’s he been doing,” I asked.“we’ve caught him!”“Av ye plaze, sor,” groaned the man, panting beneath the Wallypug’s weight, “I have been doing nothing at all, at all. I waz justa-finishin’ me warrak of swapin’ the chimneys, wen one ov the ould gintleman came up an’ poked me in the nose with a sthick, and the other ould gintleman knocked me over and sthole me bag, while the soger hild me down till the other gintleman sat on me—it’s among a lot of murtherin’ thaves I’ve got entoirely, savin’ yer presince, sor.”“The man is a burglar,” declared the Doctor-in-Law emphatically. “I happened to hear a very suspicious noise down here, and calling to the others, rushed down just in time to catch this man making off with a bag of things. I think he was trying to escape up the chimney, for his head was half-way up when we entered, and this bag, which evidently contains plunder of some kind, is covered with soot too.”“Why, the man is a sweep, and was sweeping the chimney,” I cried, pointing to his brushes and sticks; and after a lot of explanations the man was told to get up and his Majesty, followed by the others, retired to his bedroom, evidently greatly disappointed that it was not a real burglar that they had been combating.The sweep, who was a very good-natured Irishman, took it in very good part, and thepresent of half-a-crown sent him away quite reconciled to his assailants.The Rhymester afterwards made a great boast that he had not taken any part in the mélée.“Of course I knew all along that he wasn’t a burglar,” he declared, “and that’s the reason why I wouldn’t interfere.”“You managed to do a good deal of screaming though, I noticed,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law grumpily.“Ah! that was only for fun,” asserted the Rhymester.This was really about the only remarkable incident which occurred during our holiday at Folkestone, which passed very pleasantly and very quietly. We went for a sea bathe nearly every day, and his Majesty would insist upon wearing his crown in the water on every occasion.“No one will know that I am a king if I don’t,” he declared; and I am bound to admit that his Majesty did not look very regal in his bathing costume, particularly when he was dripping with water and his long straight hair hung half over his face, and even when hewore his crown he was continually catching bits of seaweed in it, which gave him a singularly untidy appearance for a king.his majesty did not look very regalA. Fish, Esq., with the assistance of a lifebuoy, nearly learned to swim while we were down there; but the Doctor-in-Law thoughtthat hiring bathing machines was a foolish waste of money, and contented himself with taking off his shoes and stockings and paddling, which he could do without having to pay. One day, however, he was knocked completely over by an incoming wave, and got wet to the skin.We could never persuade the Rhymester either, to go out further than just to his knees; but I rather fancy that that was because he was afraid of wetting his bathing costume, of which he was particularly proud, and which was decorated with smart little bows of ribbon wherever they could be conveniently put.Fear may have had something to do with it though, for I noticed that he always clung very tightly to the rope, and never by any chance went beyond its length.The switchback railway was a source of infinite amusement, and a great deal of time was spent on it. Boating was not much indulged in, as it made one or two of the party, particularly A. Fish, Esq., very ill; but we all enjoyed the beautiful drives in the neighbourhood. There was an excellent Punch and Judy show in the town too, which sofascinated his Majesty that we could scarcely tear him away whenever he joined the admiring crowd which daily surrounded it.The fickle One-and-Nine, while we were here, fell in love with a wax figure exhibited in a hair-dresser’s window in Sandgate Road. It represented a beautiful lady with her hair dressed in the latest fashion, and the wooden soldier was greatly infatuated. He spent hours gazing through the window, watching the lady slowly revolve by clockwork; and he became frightfully jealous of the hair-dresser, whom he caught one morning rearranging the drapery around the lady’s shoulders.Eventually, with the assistance of the Rhymester, he composed the following piece of poetry—which he stuck, by means of six gelatine sweets, on to the hair-dresser’s window with the writing inside, in order that the lady might see it.TO THE BEAUTIFUL LADY IN THE HAIRDRESSER’S WINDOW.I love you, oh! I love you,And I beg you to be mine;I’m a gallant wooden soldier,And my name is 1/9.If you will only marry me,’Twill be the greatest funTo puzzle folks by telling them,That we’re both 2/1.’Twill be the truth, for man and wifeAre one, I beg to state,This fact’s as clear as 4/4,Or 2/6 make 8.They tell me, dear, you have no feet;But what is that to me?2 feet be 4/2 behindOn animals you see.That you have none, is 0 to me,Dear 1/4 your sake,No trifles such as these shall e’erMy true affections shake.I bought some penny tarts for you,But I am much distrestTo tell you by mistake I satOn 1/8 the rest.One-and-Nine was quite happy in finding that the paper had disappeared from the shop window when he passed by a little later, and declared that it must mean that the lady had accepted him and his poetry.I think the funniest incident of all though, in connection with our visit to Folkestone, was when his Majesty and the others went into Carlo Maestrani’s for some ices.They had never tasted any before, and were very much surprised to find them so cold. I shall never forget the expression on the Wallypug’s face when, having rather greedily taken a very large mouthful, he could not swallow it, or dispose of it in any way. A. Fish, Esq., declared that it gave him a violent toothache; while the Doctor-in-Law called for the waiter, and insisted upon him taking it away.“it’s not properly cooked”“It’s not properly cooked,” he declared angrily. “It’s cold.”“Cook, sare, no, sare, it is not cook,” agreed the waiter.“Very well, then, take it away and bringus some that is. Have it warmed up; do something with it. It’s disgraceful bringing us stuff like that.”And no argument or persuasion would convince the little man that the ices were as they should be.CHAPTER XIITHE DEPARTUREWe remained at Folkestone till the latter part of September, and then returned to London just about the time that the first number ofThe Wallypug’s Ownmade its appearance.It caused quite a sensation in literary circles, and was mentioned by most of the papers; but it didnotturn out a monetary success, and so the Doctor-in-Law declared that he must devise some other means of making money.We had been once or twice to the circus, and I fancy that it must have been his intention to start something of the sort himself, for I caught him one day trying to teach his Majesty to walk the tight-rope; but as he had only tied the rope between two very light chairs the result was not very satisfactory, particularly tothe poor Wallypug, who came to the ground with a terrific crash.A. Fish, Esq., dressed as a clown, and certainly looked very funny; but his bad cold prevented him from speaking his jokes distinctly, and so the idea was given up.the result was not satisfactoryIn fact it was not till November that the Doctor-in-Law hit upon a plan which seemed to give him any great satisfaction. We had been talking a great deal about Guy Fawkes’ day and the fireworks at the Crystal Palace, which we intended going to see in the evening,and the Doctor-in-Law had been particularly curious to know all about the day and its customs. He did not say much about his plans, but I felt sure that he was up to some of his tricks, for I caught him several times whispering mysteriously to the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq., and I noticed that they were all particularly kind and respectful to his Majesty, as though they wished to keep him in a good humour.On the morning of the fifth, when I came down to breakfast, I was greatly surprised to find that the whole party had gone out about an hour previous, after borrowing from Mrs. Putchy a kitchen chair, four broomsticks, and a long piece of clothes-line. Whatever were they up to?I asked Mrs. Putchy if they had left any message, but no—they had said nothing as to where they were going, what they were going to do, or when they would be back; and the only thing that had struck Mrs. Putchy as being at all remarkable about their appearance, was the fact that the Rhymester had added little bows of coloured ribbon to his costume, and wore a tall pointed cap gaily decorated withstreamers, and a deep white frill around his neck—the others were dressed as usual.I felt sure that some mischief was brewing, and could not settle down to my work for thinking of them. About eleven o’clock I went out to see if I could find any traces of my guests. I had been walking about unsuccessfully for about an hour, when I heard some boys shouting, and turning to look in their direction, I beheld his Majesty calmly seated in a chair which, by means of long poles attached to it, was being carried along by the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq.They were followed by a crowd of people who were cheering lustily, and the Doctor-in-Law was rushing about collecting money in his hat, and entreating the people “not to forget the fifth of November,” and repeating some doggerel verse about:“Guy Fawkes guy,Stick him up high;Stick him on a lamp-post,And there let him die,”while several little boys were dancing about in great excitement, and shouting, “Holler, boys! holler! here’s another guy.”a triumphal processionHis Majesty evidently regarded it as a great compliment to himself, and complacently bowed right and left with considerable dignity. And I found out that the Doctor-in-Law had persuaded him into believing that this triumphal procession had been arranged solely in his Majesty’s honour.I was naturally very vexed at the poor Wallypug being imposed upon in this manner, and spoke very plainly to the Doctor-in-Law about it on our way home, and I think the little man must have taken it very much to heart, for he seemed quite subdued, and actually himself suggested sharing the proceeds of the collection with the others.We went to see the fireworks in the evening, and I don’t ever remember seeing the party in such excellent spirits as they were that night.Mrs. Putchy had prepared a capital supper for us on our return, and I love to remember my friends as they appeared sitting around the supper table talking over the adventures and excitements of the day. I can see them now whenever I close my eyes—the dear old Wallypug at the head of the table, with One-and-Ninein attendance, and the others all talking at once about the jolly time they had had at the Skating Rink in the afternoon, when A. Fish, Esq., had vainly tried to get along with roller-skates fastened on to his tail.a capital storyI say I love to remember them thus, for it was the last occasion upon which we were all together. Early the next morning Mrs. Putchy came to my room, and in a very agitated voice said, “Please sir, I’m afraid that there is something wrong; I have knocked at his Majesty’s door and can get no answer, and the Doctor-in-Law’s room is empty too.”I hurried down, and on the breakfast tableI found a letter addressed to me, in which his Majesty, on behalf of the others, thanked me very heartily for my hospitality, and explained that State matters of the utmost importance had necessitated their immediate return to Why. How they went I have never been able to discover.The outer door of my flat was found to be locked on the inside as usual, and the windows were all fastened; besides which, as they were some distance from the ground, the Royal party could scarcely have got out that way.Altogether the whole affair was involved in a mystery which I have never been able to solve to this day. Of course I miss my strange, but withal lovable visitors, very much, and I value very highly the several little mementoes of their visit which remained behind. Amongst others is a cheque of the Doctor-in-Law’s for a considerable amount; which, however, I shall never be able to cash, as it is drawn upon the bank of, “Don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-it,” at Why.General Mary Jane was inconsolable for some time after the departure of her soldier hero, but eventually married our milkman, avery steady and respectable man in the neighbourhood. Girlie and Boy and many other friends of the Wallypug greatly regretted that they were unable to say good-bye to his Majesty before he left; and often and often, as I sit alone in my study, I think about the simple-natured, good-hearted little fellow, and his remarkable followers, and wonder if I shall ever see them again. Who knows?
The North wind doth blow,And we ought to have snow,If ’tis true what my nurse used to sing,Poor thing.
Yet up in yon treeRobin Redbreast I seeAs happy and gay as a king,Poor thing.
Look! as true as I live,There’s a boy with a sieveAnd a stick and a long piece of string,Poor thing.
But the bird doesn’t care,For I hear him declare,“Pooh! the old dodge he tried in the Spring,Poor thing.”
“What ridiculous cheek,”And he turns up his beakEre he tucks his head under his wing,Poor thing.
The poor Rhymester was very disappointed at not being able to publish more of his poems, so the Doctor-in-Law, to console him, allowed him to contributean article on “Fashions for the Month by Our Paris Model.” He made a frightful muddle of it though, not knowing the proper terms in which to describe the various materials and styles. Here is an extract, which will show you better than I can tell, the stupid blunders which he made:
“Hats this season are principally worn on the head, and may be trimmed with light gauzy stuff wobbled round the crown mixed up with various coloured ribbons, and bunches of artificial flowers and fruit.“Artificial vegetables are not much worn, although a cauliflower or two and a bunch of carrots, with a few cabbages, would form a striking and novel decoration for a hat. If this trimming is considered insufficient, a few brightly coloured tomatoes stuck round the brim might be added, and would render the head-gear particularly ‘chic.’“Hats for the theatre should be worn large and handsomely trimmed, but for the economically inclined—a last year’s clothes basket trimmed with art muslin, which may be purchased of any good draper at 1-¾d. a yard, cut on the cross and tucked with chiffons, would form a sweetly simple hat, and if tied beneath the chin with an aigrette, and the front filled in with sequins, it would readily be mistaken for one of the new early Victorian bonnets which continue to be worn by the upper housemaids in most aristocratic families.“I hear that dresses are to be worn again this year by ladies. The most fashionable ones will be made of various sorts of material.“A charming walking costume suitable for the Autumn may be made of shaded grenadine, trimmed with buckram pom-poms, made up on the selvedge edge.”
“Hats this season are principally worn on the head, and may be trimmed with light gauzy stuff wobbled round the crown mixed up with various coloured ribbons, and bunches of artificial flowers and fruit.
“Artificial vegetables are not much worn, although a cauliflower or two and a bunch of carrots, with a few cabbages, would form a striking and novel decoration for a hat. If this trimming is considered insufficient, a few brightly coloured tomatoes stuck round the brim might be added, and would render the head-gear particularly ‘chic.’
“Hats for the theatre should be worn large and handsomely trimmed, but for the economically inclined—a last year’s clothes basket trimmed with art muslin, which may be purchased of any good draper at 1-¾d. a yard, cut on the cross and tucked with chiffons, would form a sweetly simple hat, and if tied beneath the chin with an aigrette, and the front filled in with sequins, it would readily be mistaken for one of the new early Victorian bonnets which continue to be worn by the upper housemaids in most aristocratic families.
“I hear that dresses are to be worn again this year by ladies. The most fashionable ones will be made of various sorts of material.
“A charming walking costume suitable for the Autumn may be made of shaded grenadine, trimmed with buckram pom-poms, made up on the selvedge edge.”
There was a lot more nonsense of this kind which I did not at all understand, but which some lady friends who understood these things made great fun of.
You will be surprised, no doubt, to hear that in a weak moment I allowed myself to be persuaded into contributing a little experience of my own.
The Rhymester told me that it was shockingly bad rhyme, but I think that he was jealous because the Doctor-in-Law published it. Anyhow, here it is, so you can judge for yourself. I call it
HE and I and IT.
Oh HE was a PublisherAnd I was a Publishee,And IT was a bookWhich the Publisher tookAnd pub-l-i-s-h-e-d.
The Publisher’s smile it was bland,’Twas a beautiful smile to see,As again and againHe took pains to explainHow large my “half-profits”mightbe.
IT had a capital sale,Well reviewed by theTimesandD.T.,And a great many more,So my friends by the scoreCame around to congratulate me.
IT had a capital sale
And people I scarcely had met,Just “dropped in” to afternoon tea;While my aunt, who’s a swell,Nowremembered quite wellThat I was related to she.
And girls that were rich and plain,Or pretty and poor, did agreeTo let me supposeThat I’d but to proposeTo be m-a-r-r-i-e-d.
my friends all turned tail
Yes, HE published IT in the Spring,That season of frolic and glee;“In the Autumn,” HE said,Gravely nodding his head,“‘Half-profits’ will mean L.S.D.”
But Autumn has come and gone,And I’m so to say, “All at sea,”For HE sobs and HE sighsAnd HE turns up his eyesWhen I ask what my “half-profits” be.
There are “charges for this, and for that,”And for “things that HE couldn’t foresee,”And HE “very much fears,”So he says twixt his tears,“That there won’t be a penny for me.”
Oh! rich is the PublisherAnd poor is the Publishee;Of the profits of ITI shall touch not a bit,They are all swallowed up by HE.
The girls now all treat me with scorn—Aunt turns up her n-o-s-e,And my friends all turn tail,While my book they assailAnd call rubbish and twad-d-l-e.
Even One-and-Nine and General Mary Jane were smitten with a desire to rush into print, and I overheard them concocting a tragic Love Story in the kitchen, and they were highly indignant later on, because the Doctor-in-Law would not accept it. You can hardly wonder at it though, for it really was too bad for anything.
It was called “The Viscount’s Revenge,” and in it several characters who had been killed in the first part of the book kept cropping up all through the story in a most confusing manner, while One-and-Nine andGeneral Mary Jane could not agree as to whether the heroine should be dark or fair, so in one part of the book she had beautiful golden hair and blue eyes, and in another she was described as “darkly, proudly handsome, with a wealth of dusky hair and eyes as black as night.”
the literary housemaid
At the last moment it was found necessary to include another poem in the magazine, and, as all of the Rhymester’s were too long, the Doctor-in-Law decided to write one himself, which he called
COMMERCIAL PROBLEMS.
Why doth the little busy beeNot charge so much an hour,For gathering honey day by dayFrom every opening flower?
And can you tell me why, good sir,The birds receive no payFor singing sweetly in the groveThroughout the livelong day?
Why flow’rs should bloom about the placeAnd give their perfume free,In so unbusinesslike a way,Seems very odd to me.
I cannot meet a single cowThat charges for her milk,And though they are not paid a sou,The silkworms still spin silk.
While ducks and hens, I grieve to find,Lay eggs for nothing too,Which is a most ridiculousAnd foolish thing to do.
These problems often puzzle me;I lie awake at night,And think and think what I can doTo set this matter right.
I’ve found a way at last, and thoughIt may at first seem funny,It cannot fail—’tis this:Youpay,AndI’llcollect the money.
THE WALLYPUG GOES TO WINDSOR
While they were all busy in the preparation ofThe Wallypug’s Own, I thought it an excellent opportunity to run down to Folkestone in order to make arrangements for hiring a house, as I intended taking my guests to the seaside for a few weeks.
I felt a little anxious about leaving them to themselves, but hoped that they would be too busy and interested in the new magazine to get into trouble.
It was most unfortunate that I should have gone just then though, for directly I had left the Wallypug received a polite letter from one of the Court officials to say that the Queen would be pleased to receive his Majesty and suite at Windsor on the following day.
a royal invitation
Of course, as you may imagine, the Wallypugwas in a great state of excitement at receiving this royal invitation, and wished to telegraph at once for me to return and advise them how to act and what to do, on this important occasion; however, the Doctor-in-Law, so I have been given to understand, persuaded his Majesty not to do anything of the sort, and added that I “was always poking about and interfering, and was better out of the way”; so his Majesty, who was very anxious to do the right thing, consulted Mrs. Putchy as tothe proper costume to be worn, and the etiquette to be observed.
“Well, your Majesty,” remarked Mrs. Putchy in reply, “I scarcely know what to advise. When in my younger days, I acted as lady’s maid to the Countess of Wembley, I know her ladyship wore a Court train and carried a bouquet when she was presented to the Queen.”
“Where did the engine go?” asked his Majesty curiously.
“The engine!” exclaimed Mrs. Putchy.
“Yes; you said she wore a train, didn’t you?” said the Wallypug.
“Oh! but I didn’t mean that kind of train,” laughed Mrs. Putchy; “I meant a long sort of cloak fastened on to the shoulders and trailing along the ground at the back—they are generally made of satin and velvet, and are decorated with flowers and feathers and lace, and that sort of thing. Your Majesty’s cloak would do nicely if I trimmed it for you.”
“But are you sure that gentlemen wear these sort of things?” inquired the Wallypug.
“Well, I couldn’t rightly say, your Majesty, but I’m sure I’ve seen pictures of kings and such like wearing trains which were borne bypages, so I feel sure your Majesty would be safe in wearing one.”
So it was arranged that, after having been carefully brushed, his Majesty’s velvet cloak was to be gaily decorated with lace and large bunches of flowers, and, to make the thing complete, a large bouquet was tied around his sceptre, and, at the Rhymester’s suggestion, little knots of flowers were attached to the knobs of his Majesty’s crown.
The little man was highly delighted with his appearance when all these arrangements were concluded, and could get but very little sleep that night for thinking of the great honour which was to be his the next day.
The whole household was early astir in the morning, and at about eleven o’clock the carriage came to take the royal guests to the station.
Arrived at Waterloo, the Doctor-in-Law, after making various inquiries as to the price of the tickets, etc., actually had the meanness, despite the remonstrance of the railway officials, to insist upon the whole party travelling down third-class, remarking that he “found the third-class carriages reached there quite assoon as the first, and a penny saved was a penny gained.”
The station master at Windsor was particularly put out about it, as, in honour of his Majesty’s visit, the station had been gaily decorated and a carpet laid down to the carriage door. His Majesty, however, made a brave show as he walked up the platform preceded by the Doctor-in-Law, his gaily decorated train borne by the Rhymester, and followed by A. Fish, Esq., and One-and-Nine, the latter carrying a mysterious bandbox, which contained a present from the Wallypug to her Majesty. (Seefrontispiece.)
Inside and out the station was crowded with curious spectators, all eager to catch a glimpse of his Majesty and his remarkable retinue, and cheer after cheer resounded as the station master, bare-headed and bowing, ushered the party to the royal carriage with the red and gold-liveried servants, which had been sent from the castle to meet them.
The bells were ringing, and the streets were crowded as they drove through the old town, and his Majesty thoroughly enjoyed the drive, while the Doctor-in-Law was quitein his element amidst all this fuss and excitement.
I did not care to inquire too fully into the details of his Majesty’s interview with the Queen, but I was given to understand that the whole party was treated with the utmost kindness.
Her Majesty graciously accepted at the Wallypug’s hands a gilded crown, an exact copy of the one he wore himself, and which he had had made expressly for her Majesty, having been struck by the fact that her Majesty’s real crown was always kept locked up in the Tower, and hoping that perhaps this one would do for second best.
I could not gather that her Majesty had actually promised to wear it, but I do know that the Wallypug was made exceedingly proud and happy by the gift of a portrait of her Majesty herself, with the royal autograph attached, and that he will always remember the occasion of his visit to Windsor, and the kindness with which he was treated by everyone, particularly by the little Princes and Princesses, her Majesty’s great grand-children, who led him about the Castle grounds, andshowed him their pets, and the flowers, and conservatories, and all the wonderful sights of that wonderful place.
In the evening there was a dinner party, at which her Majesty did not appear, and early the next morning a royal carriage again drove them to the stationen routefor London.
All this I learned on my return from Folkestone. I also heard of an extraordinary evening party which had been given at my house during my absence. It appears that the invitations had been sent out by the Doctor-in-Law the very day upon which I left, and about thirty guests, including the Duchess of Mortlake, had been invited. Unfortunately, however, this visit to Windsor had entirely driven the matter from the Wallypug’s mind, and the others had forgotten about it too, and so a pretty confusion was the result.
It appears that one evening about seven o’clock they were all in the kitchen making toffee, having persuaded Mrs. Putchy to let them have the frying-pan and some sugar and butter, and it having been cooking for some time the Doctor-in-Law had just told the Wallypug to stick his finger in and see if itwas done, when Mrs. Putchy came in to say that some ladies and gentlemen had arrived, and were waiting in the drawing-room.
to see if it was done
All of a sudden it flashed upon their minds thatthiswas the evening upon which they had invited their visitors to the party. Whatever was to be done? Not the slightest preparation had been made—and his Majesty and the others were all more or less in a sticky condition, and quite unfit to be seen by company.
A hurried consultation took place, during which they could hear more and more guests arriving, and at last, by a brilliant inspiration, the Doctor-in-Law thought of making it a surprise party, similar to those given in America.
“It won’t cost us anything either,” he remarked complacently.
“But what is a surprise party?” asked the others.
“Never mind, you’ll see presently,” remarked the little man. “Run and wash your hands now and make yourselves tidy.”
A few minutes later the whole party filed into the drawing-room, the Wallypug looking rather blank and nervous, and the Doctor-in-Law full of profuse apologies for having kept the guests waiting so long.
“By the way,” he remarked airily, “I suppose you all know that it’s a surprise party.”
“Dear me, no,” said the Duchess of Mortlake, speaking for the others. “Whatever is that; I don’t think it was mentioned on the cards of invitation, was it?”
“Ah! a trifling oversight,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law. “A surprise party,” he continued in explanation, “is one at which eachguest is expected to contribute something towards the supper—some bring one thing and some another. What have you brought, may I ask, your Grace?”
“Well, really,” said the Duchess, “I’ve never heard of such a thing in my life before. I’ve not brought anything at all, of course; I’m surprised at your asking me such a question.”
“Ah, yes, just so,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law triumphantly, “just what I told you—asurpriseparty, don’t you see! Now, what I would advise is that you should all go out and order various things to be sent in for supper; we, for our part, will provide some excellent toffee, and then you can come back and help us to set the tables and all that sort of thing, you know—it’s the greatest fun in the world, I assure you.”
And really the little man carried it off with such gaiety, that entering into the spirit of the thing the guests really did as he suggested, and went out and ordered the things, and afterwards came back, and, amidst great laughter and fun, the tables were laid, every one doing some share of the work, with the exception of the Doctor-in-Law, who contented himself with directing the others and chatting to the ladies.
the wallypug helps
The poor dear Wallypug amiably toiled backward and forward between the kitchen and dining-room with great piles of plates and other heavy articles, and A. Fish, Esq., in his eagerness to help, was continually treading on his own tail, upsetting himself and the various dishes entrusted to his charge.
a. fish, esq., upset
At last, however, the supper was set, and the merriest evening you can possibly imagine was spent by the guests. His Majesty wasin capital spirits, and after supper suggested a little dancing, which suggestion was hailed with delight by the others, and, having moved some of the furniture out of the drawing-room and pushed the rest away into corners, the Wallypug led off with her Grace the Duchess of Mortlake, and quite distinguished himself in “Sir Roger de Coverley.” Afterwards there was a little singing and music, several of the guests contributing to the evening’s entertainment. Amongst other items was a song by A. Fish, Esq., rendered as well as his bad cold would permit, of which the first lines ran:
I’b siddig here ad lookig at the bood, love,Ad thinkig ov the habby days of old,Wed you ad I had each a wooded spood, love,To eat our porridge wed we had a cold.
Altogether the evening was such a success that her Grace declared that it should not be her fault if surprise parties were not the fashion in Society during the coming winter.
HIS MAJESTY AT THE SEASIDE
I sent Mrs. Putchy and General Mary Jane down to the house, which I had engaged on the “Lees” at Folkestone, the day before we were to go, in order to see that everything was ready for us.
“The only thing that is wrong is the kitchen chimney, and that smokes, sir,” said Mrs. Putchy, in answer to my inquiry on the night of our arrival. “I think that we had better have the sweep in the morning, sir.”
“Very well, Mrs. Putchy, I’m sure you know best,” I replied, and thought no more of the matter.
Early in the morning, however, I was awakened by screams and cries proceeding from the lower part of the house.
“Help! help! Burglars! Fire and police!Thieves!” screamed a voice, and hastily dressing myself, I rushed out into the passage, and was confronted by the Rhymester, who had evidently just jumped out of bed, and who, though it was broad daylight, bore a lighted candle in one hand, and a pair of fire tongs in the other.
His teeth were chattering with fright, and his knees were knocking together from the same cause.
“What’s the matter,” I asked in alarm.
“Oh! oh! there are burglars in the house,” he cried excitedly, “and the others have gone down to them; I’m sure they’ll be killed—I told them not to go, but they would. Let’s go and hide under a bed somewhere. Oh! oh, what will become of us?”
“Don’t be such a coward,” I cried, hurrying down stairs, while the poor little Rhymester, afraid to be left alone upstairs, tremblingly followed.
Sure enough there was a sound of struggling going on, and voices raised in loud dispute.
“Oh, that story won’t do for me,” I heard the Doctor-in-Law exclaim.
“But I tell yez, sor,” chimed in another strange voice, “I waz only going to——”
“Never mind what you were going to do, give up the sack,” said the Doctor-in-Law.
Then there were sounds of struggling, and amidst the confusion a voice saying:
“Hold him down! Sit on him! That’s right! Now for the sack.”
And, bursting the door open, a curious sight met my eyes. A poor sweep lay flat upon the floor, with the Wallypug sitting upon him, and One-and-Nine keeping guard; while the Doctor-in-Law and A. Fish, Esq., examined his bag of soot in the corner. The poor little Rhymester summoned up sufficient courage to peep in at the doorway, and stood there making a piteous picture, with his white face and trembling limbs.
“Whatever is the matter,” I inquired as soon as I entered.
“We’ve caught him!” exclaimed his Majesty, complacently wriggling his toes about.
“But what’s he been doing,” I asked.
“we’ve caught him!”
“Av ye plaze, sor,” groaned the man, panting beneath the Wallypug’s weight, “I have been doing nothing at all, at all. I waz justa-finishin’ me warrak of swapin’ the chimneys, wen one ov the ould gintleman came up an’ poked me in the nose with a sthick, and the other ould gintleman knocked me over and sthole me bag, while the soger hild me down till the other gintleman sat on me—it’s among a lot of murtherin’ thaves I’ve got entoirely, savin’ yer presince, sor.”
“The man is a burglar,” declared the Doctor-in-Law emphatically. “I happened to hear a very suspicious noise down here, and calling to the others, rushed down just in time to catch this man making off with a bag of things. I think he was trying to escape up the chimney, for his head was half-way up when we entered, and this bag, which evidently contains plunder of some kind, is covered with soot too.”
“Why, the man is a sweep, and was sweeping the chimney,” I cried, pointing to his brushes and sticks; and after a lot of explanations the man was told to get up and his Majesty, followed by the others, retired to his bedroom, evidently greatly disappointed that it was not a real burglar that they had been combating.
The sweep, who was a very good-natured Irishman, took it in very good part, and thepresent of half-a-crown sent him away quite reconciled to his assailants.
The Rhymester afterwards made a great boast that he had not taken any part in the mélée.
“Of course I knew all along that he wasn’t a burglar,” he declared, “and that’s the reason why I wouldn’t interfere.”
“You managed to do a good deal of screaming though, I noticed,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law grumpily.
“Ah! that was only for fun,” asserted the Rhymester.
This was really about the only remarkable incident which occurred during our holiday at Folkestone, which passed very pleasantly and very quietly. We went for a sea bathe nearly every day, and his Majesty would insist upon wearing his crown in the water on every occasion.
“No one will know that I am a king if I don’t,” he declared; and I am bound to admit that his Majesty did not look very regal in his bathing costume, particularly when he was dripping with water and his long straight hair hung half over his face, and even when hewore his crown he was continually catching bits of seaweed in it, which gave him a singularly untidy appearance for a king.
his majesty did not look very regal
A. Fish, Esq., with the assistance of a lifebuoy, nearly learned to swim while we were down there; but the Doctor-in-Law thoughtthat hiring bathing machines was a foolish waste of money, and contented himself with taking off his shoes and stockings and paddling, which he could do without having to pay. One day, however, he was knocked completely over by an incoming wave, and got wet to the skin.
We could never persuade the Rhymester either, to go out further than just to his knees; but I rather fancy that that was because he was afraid of wetting his bathing costume, of which he was particularly proud, and which was decorated with smart little bows of ribbon wherever they could be conveniently put.
Fear may have had something to do with it though, for I noticed that he always clung very tightly to the rope, and never by any chance went beyond its length.
The switchback railway was a source of infinite amusement, and a great deal of time was spent on it. Boating was not much indulged in, as it made one or two of the party, particularly A. Fish, Esq., very ill; but we all enjoyed the beautiful drives in the neighbourhood. There was an excellent Punch and Judy show in the town too, which sofascinated his Majesty that we could scarcely tear him away whenever he joined the admiring crowd which daily surrounded it.
The fickle One-and-Nine, while we were here, fell in love with a wax figure exhibited in a hair-dresser’s window in Sandgate Road. It represented a beautiful lady with her hair dressed in the latest fashion, and the wooden soldier was greatly infatuated. He spent hours gazing through the window, watching the lady slowly revolve by clockwork; and he became frightfully jealous of the hair-dresser, whom he caught one morning rearranging the drapery around the lady’s shoulders.
Eventually, with the assistance of the Rhymester, he composed the following piece of poetry—which he stuck, by means of six gelatine sweets, on to the hair-dresser’s window with the writing inside, in order that the lady might see it.
TO THE BEAUTIFUL LADY IN THE HAIRDRESSER’S WINDOW.
I love you, oh! I love you,And I beg you to be mine;I’m a gallant wooden soldier,And my name is 1/9.
If you will only marry me,’Twill be the greatest funTo puzzle folks by telling them,That we’re both 2/1.
’Twill be the truth, for man and wifeAre one, I beg to state,This fact’s as clear as 4/4,Or 2/6 make 8.
They tell me, dear, you have no feet;But what is that to me?2 feet be 4/2 behindOn animals you see.
That you have none, is 0 to me,Dear 1/4 your sake,No trifles such as these shall e’erMy true affections shake.
I bought some penny tarts for you,But I am much distrestTo tell you by mistake I satOn 1/8 the rest.
One-and-Nine was quite happy in finding that the paper had disappeared from the shop window when he passed by a little later, and declared that it must mean that the lady had accepted him and his poetry.
I think the funniest incident of all though, in connection with our visit to Folkestone, was when his Majesty and the others went into Carlo Maestrani’s for some ices.
They had never tasted any before, and were very much surprised to find them so cold. I shall never forget the expression on the Wallypug’s face when, having rather greedily taken a very large mouthful, he could not swallow it, or dispose of it in any way. A. Fish, Esq., declared that it gave him a violent toothache; while the Doctor-in-Law called for the waiter, and insisted upon him taking it away.
“it’s not properly cooked”
“It’s not properly cooked,” he declared angrily. “It’s cold.”
“Cook, sare, no, sare, it is not cook,” agreed the waiter.
“Very well, then, take it away and bringus some that is. Have it warmed up; do something with it. It’s disgraceful bringing us stuff like that.”
And no argument or persuasion would convince the little man that the ices were as they should be.
THE DEPARTURE
We remained at Folkestone till the latter part of September, and then returned to London just about the time that the first number ofThe Wallypug’s Ownmade its appearance.
It caused quite a sensation in literary circles, and was mentioned by most of the papers; but it didnotturn out a monetary success, and so the Doctor-in-Law declared that he must devise some other means of making money.
We had been once or twice to the circus, and I fancy that it must have been his intention to start something of the sort himself, for I caught him one day trying to teach his Majesty to walk the tight-rope; but as he had only tied the rope between two very light chairs the result was not very satisfactory, particularly tothe poor Wallypug, who came to the ground with a terrific crash.
A. Fish, Esq., dressed as a clown, and certainly looked very funny; but his bad cold prevented him from speaking his jokes distinctly, and so the idea was given up.
the result was not satisfactory
In fact it was not till November that the Doctor-in-Law hit upon a plan which seemed to give him any great satisfaction. We had been talking a great deal about Guy Fawkes’ day and the fireworks at the Crystal Palace, which we intended going to see in the evening,and the Doctor-in-Law had been particularly curious to know all about the day and its customs. He did not say much about his plans, but I felt sure that he was up to some of his tricks, for I caught him several times whispering mysteriously to the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq., and I noticed that they were all particularly kind and respectful to his Majesty, as though they wished to keep him in a good humour.
On the morning of the fifth, when I came down to breakfast, I was greatly surprised to find that the whole party had gone out about an hour previous, after borrowing from Mrs. Putchy a kitchen chair, four broomsticks, and a long piece of clothes-line. Whatever were they up to?
I asked Mrs. Putchy if they had left any message, but no—they had said nothing as to where they were going, what they were going to do, or when they would be back; and the only thing that had struck Mrs. Putchy as being at all remarkable about their appearance, was the fact that the Rhymester had added little bows of coloured ribbon to his costume, and wore a tall pointed cap gaily decorated withstreamers, and a deep white frill around his neck—the others were dressed as usual.
I felt sure that some mischief was brewing, and could not settle down to my work for thinking of them. About eleven o’clock I went out to see if I could find any traces of my guests. I had been walking about unsuccessfully for about an hour, when I heard some boys shouting, and turning to look in their direction, I beheld his Majesty calmly seated in a chair which, by means of long poles attached to it, was being carried along by the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq.
They were followed by a crowd of people who were cheering lustily, and the Doctor-in-Law was rushing about collecting money in his hat, and entreating the people “not to forget the fifth of November,” and repeating some doggerel verse about:
“Guy Fawkes guy,Stick him up high;Stick him on a lamp-post,And there let him die,”
while several little boys were dancing about in great excitement, and shouting, “Holler, boys! holler! here’s another guy.”
a triumphal procession
His Majesty evidently regarded it as a great compliment to himself, and complacently bowed right and left with considerable dignity. And I found out that the Doctor-in-Law had persuaded him into believing that this triumphal procession had been arranged solely in his Majesty’s honour.
I was naturally very vexed at the poor Wallypug being imposed upon in this manner, and spoke very plainly to the Doctor-in-Law about it on our way home, and I think the little man must have taken it very much to heart, for he seemed quite subdued, and actually himself suggested sharing the proceeds of the collection with the others.
We went to see the fireworks in the evening, and I don’t ever remember seeing the party in such excellent spirits as they were that night.
Mrs. Putchy had prepared a capital supper for us on our return, and I love to remember my friends as they appeared sitting around the supper table talking over the adventures and excitements of the day. I can see them now whenever I close my eyes—the dear old Wallypug at the head of the table, with One-and-Ninein attendance, and the others all talking at once about the jolly time they had had at the Skating Rink in the afternoon, when A. Fish, Esq., had vainly tried to get along with roller-skates fastened on to his tail.
a capital story
I say I love to remember them thus, for it was the last occasion upon which we were all together. Early the next morning Mrs. Putchy came to my room, and in a very agitated voice said, “Please sir, I’m afraid that there is something wrong; I have knocked at his Majesty’s door and can get no answer, and the Doctor-in-Law’s room is empty too.”
I hurried down, and on the breakfast tableI found a letter addressed to me, in which his Majesty, on behalf of the others, thanked me very heartily for my hospitality, and explained that State matters of the utmost importance had necessitated their immediate return to Why. How they went I have never been able to discover.
The outer door of my flat was found to be locked on the inside as usual, and the windows were all fastened; besides which, as they were some distance from the ground, the Royal party could scarcely have got out that way.
Altogether the whole affair was involved in a mystery which I have never been able to solve to this day. Of course I miss my strange, but withal lovable visitors, very much, and I value very highly the several little mementoes of their visit which remained behind. Amongst others is a cheque of the Doctor-in-Law’s for a considerable amount; which, however, I shall never be able to cash, as it is drawn upon the bank of, “Don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-it,” at Why.
General Mary Jane was inconsolable for some time after the departure of her soldier hero, but eventually married our milkman, avery steady and respectable man in the neighbourhood. Girlie and Boy and many other friends of the Wallypug greatly regretted that they were unable to say good-bye to his Majesty before he left; and often and often, as I sit alone in my study, I think about the simple-natured, good-hearted little fellow, and his remarkable followers, and wonder if I shall ever see them again. Who knows?