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THE MISSING PRINCE

By G. E. Farrow

Author Of “The Wallypug Of Why” And “The King’s Gardens.”

With Page Illustrations By Harry Furniss

And Vignettes By Dorothy Furniss

1886

[Illustration: 0001]

[Illustration: 0006]

[Illustration: 0007]

Dedicated To

My Little Friend

Ralph Cyril Lockhart Brandon.

Known As “Boy.”

[Illustration: 0011]

|MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS,--

In the Preface to my last book I told you that when I closed my eyes I
seemed to see hundreds of dear Children’s faces turned towards me asking
for a story; and now, as so many copies of that book have been sold, I
am bound to believe that not hundreds, but thousands, of little friends,
to whom I was this time last year a stranger, are expecting another
story from my pen.

Some of you may perhaps have seen the very kind things which so many of
the papers said about “The Wallypug of Why.” Now I am going to tell you
a secret, even at the risk of seeming ungrateful to them. It is this.
Much as I value their kind opinion, and proud and happy as I am that
my book has met with their approval, I value your criticism even more
highly than theirs, and I am going to ask you to do me a great favour. I
have had so many letters from little friends about “The Wallypug of Why”
that it has made me greedy, and, like Oliver, I want more. So will you
please write me a letter too, your very own self, telling me just what
you think of these two books, and also what kind of story you want after
my next one, which is to be a School story, called “Schooldays at St.
Vedast’s,” and which will be published almost as soon as this one is?
I did think of writing a story about pet animals, for I am very fond
of them; so if you can tell me anything interesting about your dogs
or cats, rabbits, or other favourites, I may perhaps find room for the
account in my book. You can always address letters to me in this way,
and then they will be sure to reach me wherever I am:--

``"Mr. G. E. Farrow,

`"C/o Messrs. Hutchinson & Co.,

``"Publishers,

```"34, Paternoster Row,

````"London, E.C."=

Besides being a very great pleasure to me to receive these letters from
you, it will help you, I hope, to feel that the Author of this book is
in a measure a personal friend.

You will be pleased, I am sure, to see that Mr. Harry Furniss has again
been able to give us some of his delightful pictures, and that his
clever little daughter Dorothy has helped him.

I see that she has drawn, at the beginning of this Preface, some little
folks with letters in their hands. I hope that they are for me, and that
there are some from you amongst them.

```Your affectionate Friend,

````The Author.

[Illustration: 0017]

THE MISSING PRINCE.

CHAPTER I.--PIERROT AND THE MOON.

[Illustration: 9019]

OY was far too excited to go to sleep, so he lay gazing at the crescent
Moon which shone through the window opposite his bed and thought of all
the wonderful things which had happened on this most eventful of days.
To begin quite at the beginning, he had, in his thoughts, to go right
back to yesterday, when he had been sent to bed in the middle of
the day, so that he might be rested for his long night journey to
Scarborough with his Uncle. Then after having been asleep all the
afternoon, he had been awakened in the evening just about the time when
he usually went to bed, and, treat of treats, had been allowed to sit up
to the table to late dinner with his Aunt and Uncle.

Soon after dinner they had started for their long drive to the Station
through the brightly lighted streets which Boy had never before seen at
night time, and when at last King’s Cross Station was reached, they
had been hurried into a carriage with rugs and pillows and were soon
steaming through the suburbs of London.

Boy had found plenty of amusement in watching the flashing lights out
of the window till, as the train got further and further away from the
town, the lights became fewer and fewer, and he drew the curtain and
settled himself comfortably in a corner with a pillow and a rug.

His Uncle was deeply buried in his paper, and Boy did not like to
disturb him, so he picked up _Punch_, which had fallen to the floor,
and began to look at the pictures. He must have fallen asleep soon
afterwards, for he did not remember anything else till they reached
York, where they had to change trains, and where they had hot coffee and
sandwiches. Then when the train started again Boy’s Uncle had pointed
out to him the square towers of York Minster showing clearly against
the green and gold sky of early morning; and then Boy had gone to
sleep again and did not wake up till they reached Scarborough, where
a carriage was waiting to take them to the Hotel. Boy looked about him
with great interest as they drove through the half-deserted streets, for
it was still very early in the morning. He could see the ruins of an
old castle at the end of the street, and as they turned a corner the sea
flashing in the morning sunlight burst into view.

Boy thought that he had never before seen anything so beautiful. There
was the great bay with the castle at one end and Oliver’s Mount at the
other, the quay and the little lighthouse, and a lot of ships, while out
at sea was a whole fleet of brown sailed fishing-smacks coming in with
their spoil of fish. Hundreds of sea-gulls were wheeling round and
round uttering their peculiarly shrill cry, and altogether it was a most
beautiful sight.

Boy’s Uncle had stopped the carriage for a few moments so that they
might admire it, and then they had driven to the Hotel at the top of the
cliffs, and after having a refreshing wash had gone down to a large room
where a number of ladies and gentlemen were having breakfast Boy had
been far too excited to eat much, particularly as his Uncle had promised
him a pony ride at eleven. So as soon as breakfast was over he had stood
by the window watching the people passing, till oh! joy of joys! there
came to the door of the Hotel the loveliest little pony with such a long
tail and mane and his Uncle’s big chestnut horse Rajah, which had been
sent down by train the day before.

What a delightful time it had been, to be sure, as they rode down
through the Valley Park to the seashore, and what a splendid canter they
had on the hard sand! And then as they rode slowly back again Boy had
noticed some beautiful sand castles which the children were building on
the shore, collecting pennies in boxes for the hospitals from those
who stopped to admire them; lovely castles with flags and trees and toy
animals out of Noah’s Ark, and quaint little rustic bridges and garden
seats in the gardens belonging to them, and Boy had thought how jolly it
would be if one could be small enough to walk about in them. Then he
had heard some one singing, and his Uncle had taken him to where a
large crowd was gathered around some curiously dressed people in white
costumes with big black buttons and with big frills around their necks
and at their wrists; they wore black skull caps with white conical caps
over these. They were called, so Boy found out, the Pierrot Troupe, and
one of them was singing about a little Tin Soldier who was in love with
a beautiful Doll with eyes that opened and shut with a wire, but
who would not have anything to say to him because he was only marked
_one-and-nine_, while another soldier on the shelf above him was marked
_two-and-three_, till presently some one changed the labels and marked
him two-and-three, and the other one one-and-nine. Then the little Doll
had altered her mind, and had promised to marry him, and had forsaken
the other poor fellow, who was now marked only one-and-nine. Boy was
very much amused at the song, but felt very sorry for poor one-and-nine,
and kept talking about it all the way back to the Hotel as they went
back to luncheon, which was of course Boy’s dinner.

In the afternoon they had gone for a lovely drive in an open carriage
all through the beautiful Forge Valley, and then after tea Boy had
been taken to the Spa to hear the band play; and now after all these
wonderful treats he was lying, as I said before, wide awake in his
little strange bed watching the Moon through the half-open window.

What a big Moon it was, to be sure--quite the largest Boy had ever seen,
he thought, and surely, yes, surely there is some one sitting in it
playing upon a banjo! Why, it’s Pierrot! and the Moon is coming nearer
and nearer till Boy can hear that he is still singing about the little
Tin Soldier. In a great state of excitement Boy sat up in bed.

“I wonder if he is coming here,” he thought, as he watched eagerly. Yes!
closer and closer came the Moon, till presently Pierrot stepped on to
the window-sill and, pushing the window further open, jumped lightly on
to the floor and made Boy a polite bow.

“I’ve brought you an invitation,” he said, “to the wedding festivities
in connection with the little Tin Soldier’s marriage with the
Dolly-girl”; and he handed Boy a large envelope with a red seal.

[Illustration: 0025]

“Oh! _how_ kind of you!” said Boy, forgetting even his surprise in the
delight of receiving such a novel invitation. He hastily opened the
envelope and found a card within bearing the following words:--

“Mr. and Mrs. Waxxe-Doll request the pleasure of Master Boy’s company at
the wedding festivities celebrating the marriage between their daughter,
Miss Dolly-girl, and Captain Two-and-Three, Royal Tin Hussars.

````"R.S.V.P.

“Sand Castle,

“The Shore, Scarborough.”

“How splendid!” said Boy. “Can you please tell me, sir, what R.S.V.P.
means? I’ve seen it on invitation cards before?”

“I am not quite certain,” replied Pierrot; “but in this case I think
it must mean Ridiculous Society and Violent Papa. You see, being a toy
wedding, they are obliged by toy etiquette to ask all the articles on
the same shelf as the bride and bridegroom, and so the company is bound
to be rather mixed, and the bride’s father is afflicted with the most
violent temper you have ever heard of.”

“Dear me!” said Boy, “perhaps I had better not go.”

“Oh, it will be all right,” said Pierrot. “Whenever he feels his temper
getting the better of him he very wisely shuts himself up in a room by
himself till it’s all over, so you need not be in the least afraid. But,
I say, we had better be starting, you know; it’s getting rather late.”

[Illustration: 0028]

Boy hurriedly dressed himself, and taking Pierrot’s hand he stepped
from the window-sill into the Moon, which was conveniently close to the
window. It was very much like a boat, Boy thought, as he sat down and
made himself comfortable on one of the little cushioned seats which
stretched from one side of the Moon to the other. They had only floated
a very little way down the street, however, when the Moon began to
descend and then stopped, just at the top of the long flight of steps
near the Spa, which led to the seashore. Pierrot jumped out, and, after
helping Boy to alight, told him that at the bottom of the steps he would
find somebody waiting to conduct him to Sand Castle.

“Aren’t you coming too?” asked Boy in surprise.

“No,” replied Pierrot, “we must be off, the Moon and I, or people will
wonder what has become of us. Goodbye!” and getting into the Moon again
he was soon floating rapidly away.

Boy was somewhat alarmed at his sudden disappearance, and felt half
inclined to run back to the Hotel. “Perhaps I had better go down to the
bottom of the steps, though,” he thought, “and see who is there;” and
he had got half way down when he suddenly stopped in dismay. Why, he was
growing shorter! There could be no doubt about it. He could see to his
great surprise that he was only about half as tall as he had been when
he started running down the steps.

Whatever should he do? Boy now felt really alarmed. Why, if he went on
at that rate there would soon be nothing at all left of him.

“What’s the matter, sonny?” said a tiny voice near him.

Boy looked around, but could see no one.

“What’s the matter, I say?” said the voice again.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Boy, who thought that it was only polite
to speak when spoken to, even although he could not see the speaker. “I
am growing smaller and smaller, and I don’t know whatever to do.”

“Well, my little man,” said the voice, “you are going to the toy party,
aren’t you? How do you expect to get into Sand Castle the ridiculous
size that you are at present? You will keep on getting smaller and
smaller each step you take till you reach the bottom, when you will be
the respectable height of six inches or so.”

“Six inches!” exclaimed Boy. “Oh dear! oh dear! What a tiny mite I shall
be, to be sure, and I did so want to be big like Uncle!”

“Do you call six inches small?” said the voice. “Why, I am twenty times
as small as that.”

“Are you really? No wonder I can’t see you, then,” remarked Boy. “I
should think it isn’t very nice to be so insignificant as that, is it?”

[Illustration: 9030]

A sudden pain in his arm made him shout “Oh!” and while he was wondering
whatever could have caused it, he heard the voice repeating these
words:--=

``"You need not think because I’m small

```That I’ve no reputation,

``I do not hesitate to say

```I’m known throughout the nation.=

``"By every lady in the land

```I’m held in high esteem,

``The strongest men require my aid,

```However weak I seem.=

``"And even you must fain admit

```That I’m both _sharp_ and _bright_,

``And probably will want my help

```Yourself before to-night.=

``"So don’t attempt to ‘sit’ on me,

```'Twould not be wise of you.

``'My name?’ An ordinary Pin.

```_D’ye see the point?_ Adieu."=

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Boy; “just fancy a pin talking to one! I
wonder whatever will happen next. Well, I certainly _felt_ the point if
I didn’t see it,” he continued, rubbing his arm and hurrying down the
steps, for he didn’t so much mind now he really knew what to expect
about his size.

CHAPTER II.--THE PARTY AT SAND CASTLE.

[Illustration: 9033]

ROWING shorter and shorter as he hurried along, Boy noticed that the
Moon had gone back to its usual place in the sky, and that Pierrot was
nowhere to be seen.

“I suppose he is lying down asleep on the cushions,” he thought, as he
let himself down from one step to another; for you see he had by this
time become so small that the steps seemed like huge rocks to him.

When he at last reached the bottom one, he was greatly disappointed
to find that there was nobody in sight. From behind a piece of rock,
however, half buried in the sand, came the sound of laughter. “Ha, ha,
ha! Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho!” shouted somebody, and when Boy hurried up to
where the sounds proceeded from a curious sight met his eyes.

A Grig was pirouetting about on the tip of its tail, giggling and
laughing in an insane fashion, whilst a solemn-looking Wooden Soldier
was standing at “attention” and looking straight in front of him, not
taking the slightest notice of the Grig or anything else.

Presently the Grig caught sight of Boy. “Hee, hee, hee!” he snickered,
“here comes a boy! What a jolly lark!” and he capered about more madly
than before.

The Wooden Soldier, who had a label round his neck with “One-and-Nine”
 written on it, turned stiffly around, so that he faced Boy, and said in
a deep voice,--

“I wote for you at the bottom of the step for some time, but was
obligated to move to a more shelterous situation, as I am suffering from
a stiff neck.”

“You _wote_ for me!” exclaimed Boy, “whatever do you mean?”

“Wote, past participle of the verb to wait. Wait, wite, wote, you know,”
 answered the Soldier.

“Hee, hee, hee! Isn’t he a cure?” laughed the Grig, winking at Boy, and
twirling about at such a rate that it made Boy quite giddy to look at
him.

“He’s been crossed in love, and it’s touched his brain--ha, ha, ha!--he
fancies that he has invented a new system of Grammar. What a lark!
Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho!” and he rolled about in an uncontrollable fit of
laughter.

“Well, of all the extraordinary individuals that I have ever met,”
 thought Boy, “these two are certainly the most remarkable! I wonder
which of them is to show me the way to Sand Castle. I had better ask.”

“Mr. Officer,” he began, for he thought that would be a polite way of
addressing the Soldier.

“His name’s One-and-Nine,” interrupted the Grig “What a name! Ha, ha,
ha! Hee, hee!”

“The vulgarocity of this individual is unbearacious,” exclaimed
One-and-Nine angrily. “Let us leave him.”

“Oh! I wish to be directed to Sand Castle,” said Boy. “Can you please
show me the way?”

“That is the purposeness of my being here,” replied One-and-Nine. “Step
this way, please,” he said, as he walked stiffly forward.

The Grig did not seem to mind them going in the least, and kept on
dancing about and shrieking with laughter.

“Good-bye, old Wooden Head!” he shouted. “You are as good as a pantomime
any day, you are! Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee!” and the sound of his laughter
grew fainter and fainter as they walked quickly away from him.

“That Grig will come to a lamentuous end unless he reformationises,”
 remarked One-and-Nine severely.

“He seems to be in very high spirits about something,” said Boy.

“Yes, that’s the worst of these Grigs,” replied One-and-Nine, “they
never seem to considerise the unenjoyability of jollyosity; they seem to
think that life is all jubilaceous, whereas it is rather more otherwise
than otherwise.”

“Oh dear! oh dear! I do wish this man would talk in a way that I could
understand,” thought Boy. “Have we very far to go?” he asked at length,
as they walked along in the moonlight.

“About half as far again as half,” answered One-and-Nine absently. “I
beg your pardon, I mean we shall be there with considerable soonness.
You must excuse me being a little upset; I have recently suffered the
same affliction as yourself.”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy.

“I’ve been reduced,” answered One-and-Nine sorrowfully. “You’ve been
reduced too,” he said, “but only in size. I’ve come down in price, which
is far more serious. I was once Two-and-Three,” he added regretfully.

“Oh! then you are the _other chap_ that Pierrot sang about,” said Boy,
“and the Dolly-girl jilted you, didn’t she, and----”

“That’s not a matter of the slightest consequentially,” interrupted
One-and-Nine; “she was a person of frivolaceous character, and though
I am bound to admit that at one time I did devotionise her with
considerable muchness, I have since found out that she was
totally unworthy of my admirosity. Tin Soldier indeed!” he went on
contemptuously, evidently referring to his rival, “why, he couldn’t
stand fire at all; he would melt! I don’t deny that he looks very well
on parade, but he would be no good in action. However, she has chosen to
marry him and she must abide by the consequences. If people will
marry _tin_, they must be prepared to find that it _melts?_ he added
sententiously.

“Oh! there’s Sand Castle, I suppose!” cried Boy, as some lights appeared
in the distance.

“Yes,” replied One-and-Nine, “here we are!”

Boy could see when they reached the gates that it was the very Castle
which he had so much admired in the morning. “And I am just the right
size to go in, just as I wished to do,” he thought gleefully.

A regiment of toy soldiers were drawn up before the gate and saluted as
Boy and One-and-Nine entered.

Mr. and Mrs. Waxxe-Doll stood at the entrance to welcome their guests.
Mrs. Waxxe-Doll was a very grand-looking personage in most fashionable
attire, whilst her husband was not a wax doll at all, but a wooden and
cardboard person with very thin, straight legs, and a large body and
head which wobbled about when he was touched.

“So pleased to see you,” said Mrs. Waxxe-Doll in a languid voice,
shaking hands with Boy, and holding her hand nearly on a level with
her head in doing so. “My husband,” she said, introducing Boy, and then
walking away.

“How do you do, sir?” said Boy, holding out his hand politely.

“What’s that to do with you?” exclaimed Mr. Wraxxe-Doll fiercely.
“People have been asking me that silly question all the evening. Do you
think I’ve got nothing better to do than stand here and answer foolish
conundrums like that? I wonder you don’t say it’s a fine evening and
have done with it! All the other folks have been saying that too, one
after the other, like a lot of brainless lunatics. ‘How do you do? It’s
a fine evening!’ Bah! If you haven’t anything better to talk about than
that, you had better have stopped away!” And Mr. Waxxe-Doll glared at
Boy till he felt quite alarmed.

“Don’t mind him,” said One-and-Nine, “it’s his way--come along!” and
he led the way into the Dancing Hall where the festivities were in full
swing. All kinds of toys were represented, and it was indeed, as Pierrot
had said it would be, a very mixed gathering.

[Illustration: 0040]

The guests were principally dolls dressed in the most varied of
costumes, from silks, brocades and satins, to black paint; some
fastidious-looking young gentlemen with fair curled hair, and dressed
in pale blue knitted suits, were leaning against the wall in affected
attitudes, and a whole group of Dutch dolls were gathered around a
military-looking person in a cocked hat lolling luxuriously on an
ottoman at one end of the room. There was a Toy Band at the other end,
which looked very imposing, but which Boy found out was only for show,
the Musicians only pretending to perform, while the music was really
supplied by a musical box hidden away at the back. A number of dolls
were dancing a polka when Boy and One-and-Nine entered, so they sat down
on a rout-seat near the door and watched them.

A supercilious-looking doll in evening dress sat next to Boy, fanning
herself fussily.

“Very mixed lot of people here,” she began, without the slightest
introduction. “I should not have come if I had known what to expect. Are
you a friend of Mr. Waxxe-Doll’s?” she asked.

“No, I’ve never met him before,” replied Boy.

“Ah! vulgar person, very--plenty of money, though--likes to be thought
grand. Of course he isn’t a Waxxe-Doll at all. His wife was a Waxxe and
he took her name--it looks very well joined to his with a hyphen, you
know. Mrs. Waxxe-Doll is of French descent, and gives herself airs
in consequence. They’ve hired this Castle for the season at enormous
expense, but bless you, they are nobodies! See that vulgar-looking old
lady in the corner--with a pipe in her mouth--they call her Ancient Aunt
Sarah; but she’s nothing of the sort. Everybody knows her; she’s just
‘_Old Aunt Sally, three-shies-a-penny_,’ so it’s no use their trying to
disguise the fact. Look at those two,” she went on, as two dolls in very
straight narrow dresses danced past, “what guys! But there, what can you
expect? They came out of the ark, I believe.”

And Boy could see that they really did look like the figures out of
Noah’s Ark.

The music stopped just then, and most of the dolls went out into the
grounds to get cool; and Boy, who did not at all care for the spiteful
little person who had been letting him into all the Waxxe-Doll’s family
secrets, thought that he would follow their example.

One-and-Nine had wandered off by himself, so Boy had no one to talk to.

He found the grounds brilliantly illuminated with little wax vestas
stuck in the sand, and the toy trees and rustic bridges looked quite
pretty in the light. Three or four Gentlemen dolls were playing a kind
of game by the pond, and asked Boy to join them. He found that it was
called “Stock Brokers,” and he soon learned how to play it.

Each had a large sheet of blue paper which was called a “Stock,” and
which when torn in half became a “Share.” These pieces of paper were
thrown into the air, and the game consisted in blowing under these
pieces of paper, or “raising the wind,” as it was called, in order to
keep them floating: the one who kept his “Share” or “Stock” from falling
longest won the game. Boy quite enjoyed playing it until one of his
“Shares” fell to the ground, and then he was “broke,” as they called it,
and so he lost the game.

[Illustration: 0043]

A crowd of dolls hurrying back to the Castle next attracted his
attention, and, following them inside, he heard it announced that
Sergeant One-and-Nine was about to recite. Boy was very glad to hear
this, and managed to push forward to where One-and-Nine was standing.

The Master of Ceremonies was bustling about trying to find every one a
seat; and at last, when the room was quite quiet, One-and-Nine began the
following poem, which had been composed by himself:--=

THE MUS RIDICULOUS AND THE FELIS DOMESTICA.

``"A Cat amidst the Burdock leaves

```Sat all disconsolate,

``And sadsomely did wop and wole

``And role against her fate.=

``"'Ah! hollow, hollow,’ wole the Cat,

```'Is all Societee,

``And falshish shamiosity

```In all around I see.’=

``"'Oh! why,’ I crew in sympathy,

```'Lamentuate like that?

``Pray tell me all your sorrowness’;

```And down I flumply sat.=

``"The Cat did then all sobbishly

```Her woesome tale repeat.

``'This world is full of mockishness,

```And also of deceit.=

``"'For why? This mom at dawnitude

```A mouse I did espy;

``'Twas running whirligigishly

```Beneath my very eye.=

``'And feeling somewhat breakfastish

```I straightway gave a spring,

``And landed right upon the back

```Of that activeous thing.=

``"'To my surprise it did not squeak,

```And neither did it squeal;

``And as ‘twas rather littleish,

```I ate it at one meal.=

``"'I much regret my hastiness,

```For soon, to my dismay,

``'Twas acting most unmouseishly,

```In an eccentric way.=

``"''Twas what they term a _clockwork_ mouse,

```And governed by a spring;

``Its works behaved revolvingly,

```And hurt like anything.=

``"'Oh! tell me, is life livable

```When things go on like that?

``When clockwork mice and feathered shams

```Impose upon a Cat?'=

``"I could not answer her, and so

```I softly snoke away;

``I felt that ‘twould be synicish

``To wish that Cat ‘Good-day.’”=

All the company applauded vigorously at the conclusion of the
recitation; and whilst the clapping was still going on a black
india-rubber doll rushed in with a very scared face and cried out, “The
tide is coming in!” and there was immediately a great commotion
throughout the room.

The company rushed helter-skelter to the gate, where they could see that
the tide had indeed risen so high as to cut off all communication with
the shore. Mr. Waxxe-Doll was stamping about in fury.

“See what comes of all this tomfoolery! Parties, indeed! and hiring Sand
Castles for a lot of scatterbrains to make idiots of themselves in! Wait
till I get safely home again on my shelf, and you don’t catch me giving
any more parties, I can tell you.”

The remainder of the dolls were rushing madly about, wringing their
hands and crying that they should all be drowned. One-and-Nine seemed to
be the only person able to suggest anything.

“Here is a plank,” he said, pointing to one which had been left on the
sand; “we had better all get on to it, and the tide will carry us back
to the shore.”

[Illustration: 0048]

The proposal was hailed with delight by the rest, and they all scrambled
on to the plank and waited events. The elaborately dressed dolls in silk
and satin held up their dainty skirts so that they should not get wet;
whilst the Dutch dolls sat in a row on the edge of the plank with their
legs dangling over the side.

Ancient Aunt Sarah threw conventionality to the winds, and lighted up
her pipe, at which Mrs. Waxxe-Doll was so shocked that in her agitation
she dropped her fan over the side of the plank.

Boy very politely jumped down to fetch it for her, and as he was
stepping back a huge wave came rolling up and carried off the plank with
all the dolls on it, wetting Boy through to the skin and leaving him
standing alone on the wet sand. As the plank with its cargo of screaming
dolls floated away, One-and-Nine shouted out, “I will meet you again at
Zum,” just as they disappeared behind a rock standing out of the sea.

CHAPTER III.--PROFESSOR CRAB.

[Illustration: 9049]

OOD gracious! whatever am I to do now?” thought Boy, for the tide
was rising higher and higher every moment, and there seemed to be no
possible way of getting back to the shore again. He had just decided to
return to Sand Castle and see if he could not find something to make a
raft of when he noticed a very large Crab in a white waistcoat and dark
blue coat carrying a goldheaded cane in one claw, and walking rapidly
towards him.

As soon as he perceived Boy he exclaimed in a delighted voice,--

“Why! Bless me, what a charming little human creature! How do you do, my
dear sir?”

Boy, staring at him in great surprise, replied that he was “quite well,
thank you,” and was just going to ask the Crab if he could suggest a way
back to the shore, when a great wave rolled up unexpectedly and carried
Boy and the Crab off their feet, destroying about half of Sand Castle,
and washing away most of the toy trees which were in the garden.

“Very refreshing, sir, isn’t it?” remarked the Crab, smoothing down his
coat as the wave receded, leaving them on the wet sand.

Boy, drenched to the skin, was spluttering and gasping for breath, and
could not reply for a moment or two, but at last he managed to say, “I
think it is horrid, and I am sure I shall be drowned soon if this sort
of thing goes on much longer. Do you know how I can get back to the
shore?” he panted.

“You can’t get back,” said the Crab decidedly.

“Oh dear me! then I shall certainly be drowned!” cried Boy in alarm.

“What nonsense!” remarked the Crab. “That’s what all the human creatures
say directly they get a little wet. It’s all affectation, my dear sir, I
assure you. Why, look at me. I’m just as comfortable in the water as out
of it, and so would you be if you would only try it. Here comes another
wave. Now don’t be frightened and don’t let yourself be carried away;
just stop on the sand and let the water go over you--give me your claw;”
 and grasping Boy’s hand He held him, down while the wave passed over
their heads. For a moment Boy could not breathe, but presently having
swallowed a great mouthful of salt water, he found to his great surprise
that he could breathe just as well under the water as out of it.

“There, what did I tell you?” remarked the Crab pleasantly, when Boy had
partially recovered from his fright; for there is no disguising the fact
that he had been frightened, although he was a brave little fellow, too.
“Come along,” continued the Crab, “you had better come and see my school
now you have got so far.”

“Your school!” exclaimed Boy. “Do you keep a school?”

“Yes,” replied the Crab, “I am the Head Master of Drinkon College.”

“What a funny name!” said Boy smilingly.

“Not at all,” replied the Crab; “no funnier than Eaton--Eaton on land
and Drinkon under the sea, you know.”

Boy thought about this as they proceeded along the hard sand under the
water, and then he noticed to his great surprise a number of fishes
about his own size, in short jackets and deep collars, and wearing
College caps, swimming in their direction.

[Illustration: 0053]

“These are some of my scholars,” remarked the Crab as they came in
sight--the fishes, swimming in a perfectly upright position, raised
their caps when they saw the Crab, and one of them said very politely,--

“Good-morning, Professor.”

“Good-morning,” replied the Crab as they swam past. Just then a
curious-looking little creature covered all over with little prickly
spikes called out rudely,--“Yah! old Professor Crab--who caned the
Oyster?” and scuttled away behind some seaweed.

“That,” said the Crab, “is one of the Sea Urchins; they are very rude
and ill behaved. I do not allow my scholars to associate with them.”

“Are you really a Professor?” asked Boy, who felt greatly impressed with
the Crab’s importance.

“I’m afraid I am,” said the Crab. “All schoolmasters are, you
know--whether they admit it or not.”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy. “I don’t think my schoolmaster is a
Professor; at any rate he does not call himself one.”

“Ah, that’s his artfulness,” said the Crab. “A professor,” he explained,
“is one who professes to know more than he really does, and all
schoolmasters do that more or less, whether they admit it or not--they
are obliged to; however, let’s change the subject; it is a painful one.”

Boy was greatly surprised at this admission on the part of the Crab,
but he was too much interested in his strange surroundings to think much
about it.

They were walking along a roadway with great seaweeds planted at regular
intervals on either side, and in the distance Boy could see the outlines
of some great buildings.

“Why, there are some houses!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Of course,” replied Professor Crab. “What did you suppose we lived in?”

“I had no idea that fishes built houses before,” said Boy, “except
sticklebacks; I know they build a kind of nest with sticks and things,
because I have seen pictures of them in my Natural History book.”

“My dear sir,” remarked the Professor, “those were in the old days,
before fishes became civilised: you might as well refer to the time when
human creatures dwelt in caves and huts. No, my dear sir, the spread of
education has extended to us also, and we have now as fine cities under
the sea as any on land.”

Boy was just going to reply when his attention was attracted by a party
of Lobsters on bicycles rushing past them, all dressed alike in dark
green and yellow. One dear little one riding along gallantly at the end
of the procession amused Boy very much indeed, and he was still watching
him when he heard a voice exclaiming, “Cab, sir?” and, turning around,
beheld the most curious vehicle you can possibly imagine: two sea-horses
were attached to a kind of carriage made out of a large shell mounted on
two wheels, and were driven by a small crayfish, wearing a top hat, who
was perched up behind.

[Illustration: 0055]

“Yes, I think we will ride,” said Professor Crab, mounting the steps of
this strange conveyance, and beckoning Boy to follow. Boy was delighted
to do so, and was charmed with the curious little carriage as the
coachman cracked his whip and they bowled quickly along. Presently they
passed a large building looking like a Station, and Professor Crab told
him that it was the Terminus of the Submarine Steam Navigation Company,
and told the cabman to stop a moment so that Boy might watch one of the
boats which was just starting out of the Station. A very curious
affair it turned out to be: shaped like an enormous Cigar, with a screw
propeller at one end of it a deck on top with rails around it, on which
a number of various kinds of fishes were sitting about on deck-chairs,
chatting and reading, while through the large plate-glass windows, of
which, there was one on either side of this curiously-shaped boat, Boy
could see a number of other fishes making themselves comfortable in the
luxuriously furnished saloon. As soon as it floated away out of sight
the cabman whipped up his horses again, and off they started once more,
and did not stop until they reached some large gates with a board over
them, on which was painted in gold letters:=

````DRINKON COLLEGE,

```Principal: Professor Crab.=

The Professor paid the cabman, who touched his hat, and then, followed
by Boy, entered a large building just through the gates. A long corridor
ran right through the building, and through the glass doors at the end
Boy could see a number of the scholars at play.

“Would you like to join them while I give the First Class in Molluscs
their singing lesson?” asked the Professor.

Boy said that he should, and passing out into the playground, was soon
surrounded by a number of young fishes, all dressed in College suits
similar to those Boy had seen before.

“What’s your name?” asked one, as soon as he came up to Boy, and before
he could answer another one had asked, “What’s your father? and how much
pocket money do you have a week?” while a third demanded, “Where did you
go for your holiday last year?”

Boy thought he had better answer one question at a time, so he replied,
“Oh, I went to Broadstairs and had such a jolly time, and one day I went
out in a boat and caught such a lot of------” (Fortunately he remembered
just in time to prevent himself from saying “such a lot of fish” as he
had at first intended.)

“Such a lot of what?” asked one of the little fishes curiously.

“Oh--er--er--such a lot of--er--er--things, shells, you know, and
er--er--seaweed,” stammered Boy, feeling very confused.

“Rather funny to go out in a boat to catch seaweed, wasn’t it?” remarked
one of the fishes suspiciously. “What did you catch really?”

Boy could not think what to say, but at last he thought that he could
see a way out of the difficulty, and said, “Oh, I caught a crab.”

The fishes looked horrified.

“Oh! I don’t mean a really truly crab,” Boy hastened to say. “I mean
when your oars stick in the water and you can’t draw them out again;
that’s called ‘catching a crab,’ you know, and that’s the kind I mean,
of course.”

The fishes did not seem quite satisfied though, and stood staring at
him suspiciously for some time, till at last one of them said,--“Can you
play cricket?”

“Yes, rather,” said Boy proudly. “I’m going to be captain of our eleven
next term if Traddles doesn’t come back again.”

“Who’s Traddles?” demanded one of the fishes.

“Oh! a fellow at our school,” said Boy. “He’s eleven and ever so much
taller than me; but I can bowl better than him any day.”

“Come on then, let’s have a game,” said one of the fishes, leading the
way to the end of the playground where a single wicket was pitched.

“Your innings,” he cried, handing Boy a bat.

Boy thought this was a very curious way of beginning a game, and he was
more surprised still when, without the slightest warning, all the rest
of the fishes began throwing balls at him as hard as they could, hitting
him pretty sharply in several places, and of course knocking the bails
off the stumps at once.

“How’s that, Umpire?” they shouted all together.

The fish who had handed Boy the bat promptly replied “Out,” and the
others threw their caps up into the air excitedly and called out that
they had won the game.

“That’s not the way to play cricket,” cried Boy, throwing down his bat
in disgust.

“Who says it isn’t?” demanded one of the fishes, coming up to him.

“I say so,” maintained Boy stoutly.

“Very well, then I’ll fight you for it,” declared the fish, throwing off
his coat.

“I’m sure you won’t,” said Boy, laughing at the very idea.

“Yah! cowardy, cowardy custard,” cried the fishes, dancing around him.
“Afraid to fight; dear little mammy’s baby.”

Boy very wisely determined not to heed their taunts and walked back to
the College, leaving the quarrelsome little fishes to themselves.

The sound of music from one of the class-rooms told him where he
should find the Professor, and looking in at the window he saw the Crab
standing beside a blackboard with notes on it waving a _bâton_, while a
number of Oysters in rows were singing with their shells wide open.

“Come in,” he cried, when he saw Boy, and Boy went round to the door and
entered the room.

“We have nearly finished,” said Professor Crab. “Perhaps you would like
to hear the Molluscs sing.”

“Very much indeed,” said Boy, taking a seat on one of the forms.

[Illustration: 0063]

The Crab counted “One, two, three,” beating time with his _bâton_, and
the Oysters started singing the following song:--

“THE DEAR LITTLE OYSTER.”

`"There was once a little Oyster, living underneath the sea,

`Who was good as gold and, consequently, happy as could be;

`She kept the house as tidy and as clean as a new’ pin,

`And helped her Ma to make the beds they tuck the Oysters in.=

`"We soon discovered she possessed a most uncommon voice,

`And Operatic singing then became her ardent choice;

`So diligently practised she her lessons and her scales,

`That she quickly gained the medal given by the Prince of

```Whales.=

`"Of course she now was far too good to waste her life down

```here,

`So reluctantly we gave her up to grace another sphere:

`She, in a barrel nicely packed, was sent to Mr. Gatti,

`And under his most skilful care became an Oyster Patti."=

Boy was very pleased indeed with this song, which the First Class in
Molluscs sang very well, and clapped vigorously.

“I’m glad you like their singing,” said the Professor, looking pleased
at Boy’s approval.

“That will do for to-day,” he added, dismissing the class, and the
Oysters went out of the room in single file, each one making a little
bow as he passed the Professor. .

“Now what shall we do with ourselves for the rest of the day?” said the
Crab, when they had all gone, for there is a half-holiday, you know.
Would you like to go for a trip to Zum?” he asked.

“Oh yes, please,” answered Boy, who remembered that that was where
One-and-Nine said that they should meet again.

So Professor Crab put his hat on, and after locking the class-room door
set out with Boy for the Station of the Submarine Navigation Company.

CHAPTER IV.--M.D. AND THE DOCTOR’S BILL.

[Illustration: 9065]

HEY found a boat waiting when they reached the Station, and Professor
Crab having purchased the tickets they went on board the singular
conveyance. They had hardly taken their seats amongst a number of
respectably dressed fishes when the bell rang and they were off.

Before they had proceeded far, Boy noticed a sudden rush to the great
window at one side of the boat, and joining the crowd he heard some one
say, “There goes the Prince of Whales.”

Looking eagerly out of the window, he saw a whale very nicely dressed
in a perfectly-fitting frock-coat and wearing a beautifully glossy new
top hat; he had a gold-headed umbrella tucked under one fin, and was
followed by a crowd of small fishes who were evidently trying to attract
his attention, but of whom he was not taking the slightest notice. He
raised his hat, though, and bowed very affably as the crowd on the boat
cheered him.

“His Marine Highness is looking very well, isn’t he?” inquired a
gentlemanly-looking Whiting of Boy, as the Prince of Whales disappeared
from view.

“Very well indeed,” replied Boy; “he seems to be very popular,” he
added.

“Oh yes, he is,” replied the Whiting. “He is a capital fellow, and does
an immense amount of good. He is on his way now to open the New Home for
Distressed Barnacles, I believe.”

An American King Crab, sitting near, remarked in a loud voice that he
“didn’t believe in Princes.”

“I guess we can do without them 011 our side of the herring pond,” he
said contemptuously, and then went over to speak to a small Oyster who
was sitting the other side of the boat. Boy was rather interested in
the King Crab, never having seen one of these curious-looking creatures
before, so he walked over too, just in time to hear him say to the
Oyster,--

“Native of these parts, 1 presume, stranger?”

The Oyster bowed.

“Wal, no offence to you, but I guess we’ve got Oysters over our side of
the Atlantic that could knock you into fits. Why, we’ve got’em so big
over there that it takes two men and a boy to swallow one of them.”

“I’ve heard my Uncle say,” remarked Boy pleasantly, that most things in
America are on a very large scale; I suppose he must have been thinking
of those oysters.”

“Yes, Siree, I guess your Uncle’s right. I reckon that our country
is going to lick creation before long,” said the American King Crab,
walking away and looking very pleased.

“There, now you’ve made him happy,” said the Oyster, laughing.

“Why, what have I done?” asked Boy innocently.

“Why, Americans are always very glad to hear their country praised, you
know,” said the Oyster; “let’s come on deck and hear the singing.”

Boy very readily followed him on to the deck where they found a crowd
gathered around a couple of Soles with black faces, dressed in nigger
costumes, who were singing to the accompaniment of a guitar the
following song:--

THE GREAT SEA SERPENT.

```"I will sing a funny song

```Of a serpent of the sea,

```Which the sailors all declare

```They have often seen disporting,

```As they sailed in foreign parts,

```Here and there and everywhere.=

```"And when editors of papers

```Have no other news than this,

```They will always find a space

```For the story of a Captain,

```A Lieutenant, or a Mate,

```How this Monster they did face.=

```"And these stories vary strangely,

```As such stories ofttimes do,

```And they none of them agree

```As to length, or the appearance,

```Or in details such as these,

```Of this Creature of the Sea.=

```"Some declare it’s ‘very lengthy,’

```Others say it’s ‘rather short,’

```And a Captain from the South

```Says he saw it quite distinctly

```With a schooner fully rigged

```Disappearing down its mouth.=

```"Oh! it’s ‘somewhat like a Camel,’

```Or it’s 1 very like a Whale;’

```But the truth I now will sing:

```It’s like that Mrs. Harris

```Mr. Dickens wrote about,

```There ‘_was never no sich thing._’”=

Great applause followed the singing and presently some one called out,
“Sing the Alphabet song.”

“Yes, yes,” cried several fishes at once, “Alphabet song, Alphabet
song.”

So the two Soles bowed and commenced as follows:--

ALPHABETICUS.

```” One day A Cockney, who shall B

````The hero of our song,

```Went out an Irish friend to C

````And said he’d not be long.=

```"This friend lived by the River D.

````Although an Irishman,

```He laughed with glee his friend to see,

````And thus their converse ran:=

```"'Bedad, how are ye?’ with a bow,

````Said Paddy, quite a swell;

```The Cockney said, l’E’oped as’ow

````The Irishman wus well.’=

```'Quite well, and F ye’ll come wid me

````I’d think it kind; for why?

```I’m going to Town 011 my G-gee

````A large H bone to buy.’=

```"'My friend, I will, upon my word’

````The Cockney then did say,

```'I’ll come with you just like a bird--

````A bird they call a J.’=

```"'Come, thin,’ said Pat, ‘no longer waitr

````We’re losing half the day;

```And sure thin since we may be late

````We’d better take the K.’=

```"And as they to the town did go,

````'Twas thus the Cockney spake:

```I’ll buy an L of calico

````Some handkerchiefs to make.’=

```My wife can M them, them you know

````I’ll buy such things as these--

```An old brown N, and perhaps an O,

````To hoe our beans and P’s.=

```"'And if we pass a Barber’s there,

````I’ve really half a mind

```To have my hair, I do declare,

````Done in a Q behind.’=

```"'Bedad t’would suit you fine,’ said Pat;

````'I’ll have mine done as well.

```You R a brick to think of that!

````Oh! sha’n’t I look a swell!'=

```"Their shopping took the whole day through

````There was so much to see;

```Then Paddy said ‘Allow me to

````Scort you home to T.=

```’”And U and I by hook or crook

````On good things shall be fed.’

```And, like Sam Weller in the book,

````'V vill,’ the Cockney said.=

```"They had their tea, then Paddy spoke:

````'I feel in merry case.

```Shall I tell you a funny joke,

````And pull a funny face=

```"'To V with laughter up

```And stand upon my head?’

```'Xactly so,’ the Cockney cried,

````'Y, certainly,’ he Z."=

Quite a crowd of fishes had gathered round the two Soles while they were
singing this song, and after it was all over one of them went round with
his hat and collected pennies just as the real niggers do. Boy noticed
while this was going on that the boat was gradually rising to the
surface of the sea, and presently he found that the deck was above the
water and that he was breathing air again. He could see that they were
approaching a Quay with a number of very quaint, old-fashioned buildings
beyond it. A great crowd of people were gathered close to the edge of
the Quay, and were pointing excitedly at something in the water, and as
the boat drew nearer to the shore Boy could hear a number of directions
being shouted at once.

“Throw him a rope.”

“Nonsense! He is insensible, and wouldn’t see it.”

“Well, you swim out to him then.”

“Sha’n’t! Do it yourself.”

“Throw stones at him and try and float him ashore that way.”

This last direction seemed to find most favour, and everybody began
throwing stones at the object, whatever it was, in the water.

[Illustration: 0073]

The boat had now come quite close to the Quay, and Boy could see that
it was poor One-and-Nine who was attracting all this attention. He was
floating on the top of the water with his eyes shut and half the paint
washed off one side of his head He looked the picture of misery, but Boy
was very glad to find that he was still alive, for he opened his eyes
and feebly cried, “Don’t throw with such hardness,” whenever a stone
accidentally hit him, which was very frequently, for you see there were
such a number of people throwing them Boy felt very sorry for his old
companion, and as soon as the boat reached the Quay he ran ashore and
hurried to the place where they were trying to land the poor Wooden
Soldier.

They had just succeeded in dragging him ashore with a boat-hook when Boy
reached the crowd, and a fussy little gentleman was telling the people
to “stand back and give him air.”

“Who is that gentleman?” asked Boy of one of the crowd standing near
him.

“Why, the M.D., of course,” was the reply.

Boy being still in doubt ventured to ask what these letters stood for,
and was informed that they stood for Mad Doctor. “All doctors are mad,
you know,” said his informant; “that’s why they are obliged to put those
letters after their names.”

Boy had never heard of this before, though he had often wondered what
the letters meant. He tried to get nearer to One-and-Nine, and just
caught a glimpse of the M.D. bending over him, and heard the Wooden
Soldier explaining something about “The wetness of the water.”

“Yes, yes, my poor fellow,” the M.D. was saying. “Don’t try to talk. Has
he any friends here?” he asked, looking round.

“Yes,” cried Boy, “I know him,” and the crowd immediately parted and
made way for him to get nearer.

“Ah!” said the M.D., looking at Boy over the top of his gold-rimmed
glasses. “There’s, nothing much the matter with him except a slight
attack of ‘Water on the grain;’” and the M.D. passed his hand over the
Wooden Soldier’s head where the paint was washed off. “A little Enamel
will soon set that right; go and fetch some,” he continued, turning to
a small boy in buttons standing near him. The boy hurried off and soon
returned, bearing a large tin of green Enamel and a brush. Boy looked at
him in amazement when he came back, for he seemed to have grown several
inches taller in the few minutes that he had been away. No one else,
though, seemed to have noticed it, and the M.D. took the brush and began
to paint the side of One-and-Nine’s head green.

[Illustration: 0075]

The Wooden Soldier sighed once or twice, and then sat up and looked
around him.

“Well, my man, how do you feel now?” said the M.D. kindly.

“Oh, a little much more better, thank you,” said One-and-Nine faintly.
“That’s not a colour of much fashionableness, though, is it?” he asked,
looking at the green Enamel dubiously.

“It’s a most uncommon colour for the hair,” said the M.D., daubing
another patch at the back of his head, “and will go beautifully with
your red tunic. There, that will do nicely; take the paint away, Bill,”
 he said to the page-boy.

“Very well, sir,” answered a voice a long way up in the air, and turning
round, Boy could see that Bill, as he was called, had grown about twice
as tall as he was before. His master did not seem at all surprised,
however, and sent him off with the paint.

“And take that medicine to the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee’s as soon as you
get back,” he called out as the boy hurried off, “and say he’s to be
well shaken before they give it to him.”

The crowd was beginning to disperse, and One-and-Nine seemed to be all
right again, although Boy thought that he looked rather peculiar with
part of his head painted green.

“Which way are you going?” asked the M.D., smiling kindly at Boy.

“Oh! back to the boat again, I think,” answered Boy; but when he turned
to the Quay he found that the boat had disappeared.

“Why, it’s gone!” he cried.

“Oh yes,” said the M.D., “it only stays here for a few moments; you had
better come with me,” he suggested kindly.

Boy thought that they might as well do that as anything else, so
One-and-Nine and he followed the M.D. through the quaint street with the
curious old houses.

“There’s my Bronchitis,” cried the M.D. suddenly, pointing to a large
house on the right, “and there’s my Sciatica opposite; I have a Whooping
Cough in the next street, and the Measles a little further on,” he added
proudly.

Boy looked around in alarm, wondering whatever the M.D. meant.

“Oh, here comes my Lumbago,” he cried, as an old gentleman walking with
crutches came hobbling along the street, and then Boy could see that he
had been referring to his patients.

The M.D. stopped to speak to his Lumbago, and Boy could see the
page-boy, taller than ever, hurrying down the street with a basket on
his arm containing some medicine-bottles.

“That boy grows very quickly,” said Boy to One-and-Nine while they were
waiting for the M.D.

“Doctors’ Bills always do,” said One-and-Nine unconcernedly; “that’s how
the Doctors live, you know.”’

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy.

“Why, when a Doctor’s Bill grows too long, his patients pay him to get
a shorter one--that’s how it is that M.D.’s change their boys with such
frequentness.”

“What a lot of things I am learning to-day, to be sure,” thought Boy as
the M.D. came back to them.

“Most interesting case,” he declared, evidently referring to the
old gentleman whom he had just left. “The Lumbago is turning to
Haberdashery in the left leg.” Then seeing that Boy looked very puzzled
he added, “That’s the scientific name for ‘Pins and Needles,’ you know.”

“Oh!” said Boy. “Have you very many patients?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” said the M.D., smiling happily; “this is a most delightfully
unhealthy spot. Good gracious,” he continued, “there’s that boy fighting
again.” And the M.D. strode forward to where a small crowd was gathered
round the Doctor’s Bill and another boy, who were fighting desperately.
The M.D. rushed between them, and giving his boy a sharp box on the
ears, asked him “what he meant by fighting with a common Grocer’s Bill.”

“It’s most unseemly,” he went on, “for you to be continually quarrelling
with Tradesmen’s Bills: remember you have a position to keep up, and if
you must fight, never let me catch you doing so again with any one less
than a Lawyer’s Bill at least.”

“Please, sir,” blubbered the Doctor’s Bill, “there isn’t a Lawyer’s Bill
my size in the kingdom; the shortest one is twice as long as I am.”

“Very well, then, don’t fight at all,” said the M.D. severely, and the
Doctor’s Bill walked away sniffing and sobbing with the basket on his
arm, while the Grocer’s Bill stood a little way off making grimaces at
him.

“These Bills are a great nuisance,” said the M.D., “and are continually
quarrelling; but I must leave you now, for I have to visit the Lord High
Fiddle-de-dee, who is suffering with Gout. Good-day,” and he hurried up
the stone steps of a handsome building on the opposite side of the
street.

[Illustration: 0081]

CHAPTER V.--THE COUNCILLORS OF ZUM.

[Illustration: 9083]

HY, here he comes” exclaimed the M.D., as a very tall,
aristocratic-looking gentleman opened the door and walked hurriedly down
the steps.

“My dear sir, this is really too bad; you mustn’t think of going out,
ill as you are,” he said.

“Oh, nonsense, my dear M.D.” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee. “State
matters of the utmost importance demand my immediate attendance at the
House of Words, and I must go whether I am well or not. Who are
these persons with you?” he continued, staring rather hard at Boy and
One-and-Nine.

“Oh! I really don’t know their names,” replied the M.D. “I think they
are respectable persons, though.”

“Have they a vote?” inquired the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee anxiously.

“Yes, I think so,” said the M.D., referring to his watch. “They have
been in the Town over an hour.”

“Oh, that’s all right, then,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee; “every
one who has lived here for more than an hour is entitled to a vote.
Bring them along; they may be useful. What’s your name?” he continued,
turning to Boy.

“My name is Cyril, but I am usually called Boy,” was the reply.

“And yours?” asked the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee of the Wooden Soldier.

“One-and-Nine, Your Honour,” replied he, saluting respectfully.

“Rubbish, I didn’t ask your price,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee
impatiently. “I want to know your name.”

“One-and-Nine, Your Honour,” repeated the Wooden Soldier.

The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee stared at him for a moment, and then turned
to M.D. and said, “Is this man a little----and he tapped his forehead
inquiringly.

“Yes; softening of the grain,” replied the M.D., nodding.

“Ah, I thought so,” remarked the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee. “Never mind,
bring him along; even lunatics can vote here, you know,” and linking his
arm in that of the M.D. they proceeded down the street, followed by Boy
and One-and-Nine.

“He is a person of great dignitude, evidently,” whispered the Wooden
Soldier, who was apparently greatly impressed by the Lord High
Fiddle-de-dee’s aristocratic bearing. “And although he is rather
abrupteous in his manner, I think I admirationise him, don’t you?”

“Yes. He seems to be a very nice gentleman,” agreed Boy. “I wonder what
we shall see and hear at the House of Words? Oh! I suppose this is it,”
 he continued, as they turned a corner, and an imposing-looking building
surrounded by an excited crowd of people came in sight.

The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee seemed to be a very well-known personage,
and the crowd respectfully divided and allowed them to pass through to
the entrance of the building, where an attendant opened the door and
showed them along a corrider to another door marked Committee Room,
which the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee opened and they all passed in.

A number of grandly dressed individuals were walking about, or chatting
in little groups as they entered.

“Oh! here comes the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee,” cried some one directly
they were inside the door. “Any news?” he inquired anxiously.

The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee shook his head sadly.

“Well, we are all here now, so we had better proceed to business; take
your seats, please, gentlemen,” said a very important-looking gentleman
in a red gown and wig, seated at the head of a long table on which were
pens and paper arranged neatly before each chair.

“Members of the Committee will please take their seats in the following
order of precedence,” drawled a melancholy voice from a desk at the
further end of the room, where a worried-looking little old man, in a
very rusty black gown, and who wore enormous green goggles, sat with a
large book open before him, and a quill pen stuck behind his ear:--

“The King’s Exaggerator,” he called out;

“The Lord High Fiddle-de-dee;

“The First Lord of the Cash Box;

“The Advertiser General;

“The Minister of Experiments;

“The Public Persecutor;

“The Busybody Extraordinary;

“The Gentleman of the Glove Box;

“The First Groom of the Boot Brushes;

“The Kitchen Poker in Waiting; and

“His Insignificance the Court Poet.

“Other persons to sit-where they can.”

As each one of these names was called out one of the gentlemen sat down,
so that Boy was able to tell exactly who they were; and as all the seats
at the table were now occupied, the M.D., One-and-Nine, and Boy found
seats against the wall near the Clerk who had called out the names.

As soon as they were seated, the old gentleman got out of his box and
shuffled forward with some paper, a pot of ink and some pens. These he
put into Boy’s hands and muttered something about “fetching a table.”

[Illustration: 8089]

“What are these for?” inquired Boy.

“Paper for your impressions,” drawled the Clerk. “I suppose you have come
to report this meeting, haven’t you?”

“No, indeed I haven’t!” said Boy in alarm.

“Dear me! What have you come for then?” asked the old Clerk in an amazed
voice.

“Hush! hush!” called out some one, “His Importance is about to speak,”
 and the old Clerk hobbled back to his seat, looking more worried than
ever, while the gentleman seated at the head of the table, and who Boy
found was called The Lord High Adjudicator, arose and made the following
speech:--

“Gentlemen, we are met for the purpose of discussing the grave situation
caused by the extraordinary absence of His Serene Importance the Crown
Prince of Zum----”

“Hereditary Grand Duke of Grumbleberry Plumbhop, Knight of the Order
of----” began the King’s Exaggerator, when he was interrupted by the
Public Persecutor, who inquired,--

“What’s the use of all that, when there is no one but us to hear you?”

“I must perform my official duties,” remarked the King’s Exaggerator.

“You can have no official duties now that there is no King and the
Prince has disappeared,” objected the Public Persecutor.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, pray don’t argue,” interrupted the Lord High
Adjudicator, “or we shall waste all day in discussion. If the King’s
Exaggerator wishes to do a little exaggerating on his own account, I
am sure no one will object, but he must do it outside and not here; and
now, in order that you may understand it all more clearly, I will call
upon His Insignificance the Court Poet to read us ‘The Cause of Dismay.’”

The Court Poet, who was a very curious-looking man, was dressed in a
tightly-fitting velvet costume with a deep lace collar, and wore his
hair very long. He had most prominent eyes, which he rolled about in
a grotesque way as he spoke. When thus called upon he arose, and
tragically clutching his hair with one hand, he waved the other about
frantically, while he began in a shrill voice:--

THE CAUSE OF DISMAY.

``"Oh, men of Zum, what shall we do?

```Our King has no successor;

``The Prince has vanished from our view,

```And--and-“=

“Well, go on!” shouted several voices.

``"vanished from our view,

```And--and----“=

repeated the Court Poet, turning very pale.

“Why don’t you proceed?” inquired the Lord High Adjudicator.

[Illustration: 0091]

“I’m afraid I can’t find a rhyme for successor,” admitted the Court
Poet, looking greatly confused.

“Dear me! this is the second time this week you have failed in your
rhyming,” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator impatiently. “It’s most
annoying.”

“It’s unbearable,” declared the Public Persecutor.

“If he can’t do his work properly, we had better reduce his salary,”
 suggested the Busybody Extraordinary.

“Hear, hear!” shouted several voices at once.

“Oh, please don’t!” pleaded the Court Poet. “My stipend is very small as
it is.”

“Six pounds a year is a great deal more than you are worth!” declared
the First Lord of the Cash Box emphatically.

“So it is, so it is!” agreed the rest of the Committee.

The poor Court Poet looked very crestfallen, while the two gentlemen
sitting near him frowned at him severely, the Kitchen Poker in Waiting
looking particularly disgusted.

“Ahem! I should like to suggest,” said the Minister of Experiments,
coughing importantly and standing up to address the meeting, “that
instead of reducing his salary we should reduce his title, and that,
instead of his being known as His Insignificance the Court Poet,
he should in future be called His Absolute Nothingness the Public
Rhymester.”

This proposal seemed to find favour with the whole company, and, being
put to the vote, was carried unanimously; and His Absolute Nothingness
the Public Rhymester was told to sit down, which he did very meekly,
looking half inclined to burst into tears.

“Now then,” said the Lord Chief Adjudicator when this was all over, “we
really must get to business; and as the Public Rhymester is not capable
of setting forth ‘The Cause of Dismay’ in verse, as is the custom here,
I must try and explain to you in prose. The facts, as you are aware, are
as follows: Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth----King
of Zum and Emperor of----” began the King’s Exaggerator, evidently
intending to enumerate all of the late King’s titles; but he was
forcibly prevented from doing so by the two gentlemen sitting next to
him, one of whom held him down, while the other tied a handkerchief
tightly over his mouth.

The Lord High Adjudicator nodded approval and proceeded.

“Our late Sovereign, King Robert the Twentieth, being deceased, and the
Crown Prince having mysteriously disappeared some five years since, and
there being no legal successor to the throne, what are we to do for
a King? As you are aware, this land has always been governed
by a hereditary absolute Monarchy, and His late
never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented Majesty left absolutely no relations
whatever; what are we to do about the government of the country? That is
the question, gentlemen, which we have met here to discuss to-day.”

Almost before the Lord High Adjudicator had finished, every member of
the Committee got up excitedly and began to unfold his own particular
plan for the government of the land, each trying to drown the other’s
voice. The noise was deafening, and the poor old Clerk was so alarmed
at the uproar, that he collapsed into his box and was found after the
meeting still sitting on the floor with his fingers pressed to his ears
and trembling with fright.

For some time the utmost confusion reigned, but at last the Lord High
Adjudicator stood up in his chair and motioned them all to sit down,
which, after a time, they did.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is disgraceful!” cried the Lord High
Adjudicator when order was somewhat restored. “We shall never get on at
this rate. Now, one at a time, please.”

The Busybody Extraordinary at once got up and began as follows:--

“I have been preparing a little scheme for the government of Zum, which
is bound, I think, to meet with the approval of every one here--it is
so delightfully simple, and at the same time so effective. There is no
King. Very good, _we_ will govern the land; we will form ourselves into
a Council for the management of everybody’s business in the kingdom,
with the power to take over all property, public and private, have
control of everything and everybody in the land. Think what a benefit
it would be to the Public not to have to worry about anything at all,
simply to do as we told them, and think how delightful it would be for
us!”

“But would the Public agree to all this?” inquired the Lord High
Fiddle-de-dee dubiously.

“The Public,” said the Busybody Extraordinary contemptuously, “will do
just whatever we wish it to. It may grumble a little at first, but it
will do it all the same.”

“But what shall we be called?” asked the Public Persecutor, who seemed
greatly interested in the scheme.

“Well, I was going to propose that we should call ourselves Public
Councillors,” replied the Busybody Extraordinary. “Of course, we should
have to give up our present Official Titles and simply use our ordinary
names with the letters P.C. added. Thus I should be known as Ebenezer
Smith, P.C., and you would be Sir Peter Grumble, P.C., and so on.”

“But how would it be possible to manage everybody’s affairs?” inquired
another.

“My dear sir,” replied the Busybody Extraordinary, “that is the great
point of the whole system--it is as easy as A.B.C. We should of course
begin by commanding that _nothing whatever should be done without our
sanction;_ that would simplify matters to start with. Then we should
turn our attention to public improvements; for instance, we should begin
by pulling down this building and erect for our use some fine Municipal
Buildings on a very large and handsome scale, with portraits of
ourselves painted on all the windows.”

“But who would pay for them?” objected the First Lord of the Cash Box.

“The Public, of course,” said the Busybody Extraordinary. “What a silly
question!”

“But supposing they refused?” persisted the First Lord of the Cash Box.

“The Public refuse to pay rates and taxes?” exclaimed the Busybody
Extraordinary. “Who ever heard of such a thing? Really, my dear sir, you
are most childish in your remarks. Then,” he continued, “we should pull
down all those buildings opposite and make a wide, handsome road, with
trees on either side, with a large park at the end of it, beautifully
laid out with lakes, etc., where we could drive in the afternoon. Of
course, it would have to be railed in or we should have the Public
trespassing in it.”

“Wouldn’t the Public expect to be allowed to use the park if they paid
for all these improvements?” asked the Advertiser General.

“But they mustn’t expect anything of the sort,” said the Busybody
Extraordinary impatiently. “The Public must be taught not to question
anything that we do. It will never do for us to be hampered by mere
Public opinion, you know; besides, they would not have time to use the
park if they wanted to, because they would all be at school.”

“But not grown-up people, surely!” exclaimed the First Gentleman of the
Glove Box.

“Why not?” retorted the Busybody Extraordinary. “It will keep them out
of mischief, and I am sure some grown-up people require to go to school
quite as much as the youngsters. The gymnastic exercises will be so good
for them, too--especially the old ones. Why, I have known some old men
of eighty, or even ninety, who positively didn’t know how to turn a
somersault. Such ignorance is absolutely appalling. And you must
be aware that at the present time not more than one-third of the
servant-girls of Zum can play the piano. We can’t allow this sort of
thing to go on, you know. Then there is too much liberty allowed the
Public in the matter of pleasures and entertainments; an occasional
tea-party or a spelling-bee ought to satisfy any reasonable Public,
and we could insist that in the case of tea-parties a plan of the house
should be sent us, and a list of all the invited guests submitted for
our approval with their certificates of birth and vaccination. In this
way we should gradually get the Public completely under our control,
and would hear no more of such nonsense as their presuming to object
to anything we chose to do.” And the Busybody Extraordinary sat down
triumphantly, but somewhat breathless, after this long speech.

“H’m! there seems to be a great deal to be said in favour of his
scheme,” said the Lord High Adjudicator thoughtfully.

“A most brilliant proposal,” agreed the Public Persecutor
enthusiastically.

“There is only one thing,” said the Kitchen Poker in Waiting, getting
up and addressing the Meeting generally, “that I should like to suggest,
and that is, that instead of this proposed Public Council a King should
be elected from our number, and although I don’t wish to boast, I feel
sure that there is no one in the entire assembly who would fill the
position more ably and with greater dignity than myself.”

“It’s like your cheek!” exclaimed the First Groom of the Boot Brushes.
“I should think if any one is elected King I ought to stand before you.”

There was evidently going to be a squabble unless the Lord High
Adjudicator interfered, and he had just arisen in his seat for that
purpose when there was a knock at the door, and an attendant entered.

[Illustration: 8100]

“Av ye plaze, yer honours, there’s a woman and a bit of a child wanting
to see yer honours on a mather of importance,” he said.

“What nonsense!” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator. “Tell the woman
that we are engaged.”

“I did, yer honour,” exclaimed the attendant, “and she wouldn’t take the
answer, but told me to bring yez this bit of a letter.”

The Lord High Adjudicator took the note which the attendant handed him,
and after reading a few lines jumped up excitedly.

“Show her in at once,” he cried; and when the attendant had gone out of
the room he announced, in a voice trembling with excitement: “She says
that she has news of the Crown Prince.”

CHAPTER VI.--MRS. MARTHA MATILDA NIMPKY.

[Illustration: 9102]

HE Lord High Adjudicator had barely made this announcement when the
attendant returned, followed by a rosy-cheeked woman in a very bright
shawl and a bonnet with an enormous quantity of flowers and feathers on
it. She had little black corkscrew curls hanging down on either side of
her face, and was leading a little boy of about four years of age by the
hand: he was very beautifully dressed, and was a charming little fellow
with short golden curls and a chubby, little, smiling face.

The woman stopped at the door and made a curtsey, while the little boy
looked about him with great curiosity.

“Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, widow, gentlemen,” announced the woman, “and
His Little Royal Highness, the son of the Crown Prince of Zum.”

“Bless me, my good lady, you don’t say so!” said the Lord High
Adjudicator, jumping up from his chair and offering it to the woman,
while the Busybody Extraordinary fussed about and placed another chair
by its side with his cloak over it to make it look something like a
throne for His Little Royal Highness.

“Yes, gentlemen, I have a strange story indeed to tell you,” said Mrs.
Martha Matilda Nimpky when they had all settled down again.

“Before you begin, I should like to ask, is His Royal Highness the Crown
Prince alive and well?” asked the Lord High Adjudicator anxiously.

“Well, I can hardly tell you, sir,” replied Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky.
“He’s invisible.”

“Invisible!” exclaimed everybody in surprise.

Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky nodded mysteriously, and drew the little
Prince closer to her so that she could put one arm around him.

“The Crown Prince of Zum and his dear lady, who was the Princess of
Limesia, have both been rendered invisible by the King of Limesia’s
Magician, Ohah!”

“Dear me, how very shocking!” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator, while
the rest of the Committee displayed the greatest of interest.

“Yes, gentlemen, it happened in this way,” continued Mrs. Martha Matilda
Nimpky. “When your Crown Prince started on his travels about five years
ago, he came to Limesia, and seeing our dear Princess, at once fell in
love with her and wished to marry her. The King of Limesia, however, who
was still angry about that affair of the Portmanteau----”

“Yes, yes, we know about it,” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator,
nodding violently.

“Well,” continued Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, “the King of Limesia
wouldn’t hear of their getting married, so as they were very much in
love with each other they were married secretly and lived in concealment
until about three months ago, when your King of Zum died and the Prince
thought that he ought to come home and be crowned King. But before they
started, he, and the Princess went to the King of Limesia to beg his
forgiveness. Instead of forgiving them, though, he flew into a fearful
passion, and summoning Ohah, the Magician, he ordered him to cast a
spell upon both of them so that they might gradually become invisible.
Poor dears! I shall never forget that day when they drove home from the
Palace, looking very indistinct about the head, and told me what had
happened; for you must understand I have been living with them ever
since they were married, first as the dear Princess’s Maid, then as
Nurse to the dear little Prince here.”

[Illustration: 0105]

“Well, as I was saying, the Prince told me all about it. ‘Nimpky,’ he
said--that was the way he always addressed me, gentlemen--‘Nimpky,
it will be useless now for me to go to Zum. I am quite sure that an
invisible King would be a great trial to my poor subjects, and I
feel more and more shadowy every hour. You must take the little
Prince’--meaning this little lamb, gentlemen--‘You must take the little
Prince to Zum and tell the Lord High Adjudicator all about it, and give
him this signet-ring, which he will recognise as having belonged to me,
and see that the little Prince is made King, because he is the lawful
successor to my father’s throne.-’ Those were his very words, gentlemen,
and soon after his head disappeared entirely, so that he was unable
to speak. The poor dear Princess disappeared too, a bit at a time, and
although for a day or two we could understand them a little by the signs
which they made,, they eventually became so indistinct that we could
scarcely see them at all. The dear Princess’s left foot was the last
thing to go, and that remained visible for some days after the rest of
her body had disappeared. People used to come from miles, I assure you,
gentlemen, to see her Royal Highness’s foot, for she was greatly beloved
by all the people at Limesia, and now, out of respect for her, all
the ladies have taken to going about with their feet bare like the
Princess’s; for I must tell you, gentlemen, that our Princess was noted
for her beautiful feet, and had never worn shoes in her life, only
sandals when she walked abroad. Poor dear! I often think there must have
been something she wanted to tell me very much, by the way in which her
big toe wriggled about just before the foot entirely disappeared,
which was only ten days ago.” And Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky put her
handkerchief to her eyes.

“Well, gentlemen,” she continued, after a time, “I waited until the
last symptom of my dear Prince and Princess had vanished, and then I
journeyed here to fulfil the Prince’s wish. I had to be very careful
about it too, for if that old King knew about the little Prince (which
fortunately he does not) he would have caused him to have been made
invisible too. Now there’s one thing I should like to beg of you,
gentlemen, and that is that you will allow me to continue to be Nurse to
His Little Royal Highness, for I am greatly attached to the dear little
fellow and Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky took the little Prince on to her
lap and lovingly brushed the little golden curls from his forehead.

“Dear me! dear me! this is a very extraordinary story,” said the Lord
High Adjudicator. “May I see the signet-ring, please?” he asked.

“Certainly, sir; here it is,” replied Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky,
handing him a very curiously wrought golden ring.

“Yes, that belonged to His Royal Highness, sure enough,” declared the
Lord High Adjudicator; “and now that I look more closely at the little
boy I can see that he bears a remarkable likeness to the Crown Prince.”

“Long live the King!” shouted the Busybody Extraordinary suddenly; and
everybody else got up and joined in the cry, “Long live the King! Long
live the King!” till the rafters rang again.

The little Prince looked somewhat alarmed at all the shouting, but
he was a brave little fellow, and only said to Mrs. Martha Matilda
Nimpky,--

“Nurse, what do all those mans make that noise for?”

The Nurse said something to quiet him, and they all sat down again; and
then the Lord High Adjudicator, after conferring with some of the other
gentlemen, said,--

“Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, on behalf of the rest of the Committee and
myself, I should like to say that we think you have behaved in a very
praiseworthy manner in obeying His Invisible Highness’ wishes so.
carefully, and we shall be very glad indeed if you will accept the post
of Grand Perpetual Nurse to the King of Zum (for of course His Royal
Highness will be crowned to-morrow) at a suitable salary and a choice of
apartments in the Royal Palace.”

“Hear, hear!” shouted several of the Committee, while the Kitchen Poker
in Waiting foolishly started singing, “For she’s a jolly good fellow,”
 and was promptly suppressed.

“I shall be delighted, gentlemen, to accept ‘the position!” said Mrs.
Martha Matilda Nimpky, looking greatly pleased.

“Then there is nothing further to be done but to conduct you to the
Palace and to make preparations for His Royal Highness’ Coronation
to-morrow,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, leading the way to the door.

The Royal Nurse took the Prince’s hand, and was preparing to follow,
when the little fellow caught sight of Boy, who had been sitting with
One-and-Nine and the M.D. listening with the greatest attention to all
that was going on.

[Illustration: 0111]

“Who’s that boy, Nurse?” asked the Prince.

“Hush, dear, I don’t know,” said the Royal Nurse.

“But I want him to come and play with me,” demanded His Royal Highness,
“and that Soldier man, too.”

“My dear, you must be a good boy and come with Nurse. Perhaps another
day the little boy will be allowed to play with you,” said the Royal
Nurse, trying to lead him along.

“But I want him to come now, Nurse dear,” persisted the little Prince.

“If His Royal Highness desires it,” suggested the Busybody in
Extraordinary, “you had better let the boy accompany you to the Palace.
When His Royal Highness is made King to-morrow, you know, his wishes
will have to be obeyed absolutely.”

So Boy and One-and-Nine were told to follow the others into the Palace,
which joined the House of Words, and which was a very magnificent place.
A large crowd of Servants were in the Hall, and outside Boy could hear
shouts of “Long live the King! Long live the King!” For the news of the
little Prince’s arrival had travelled quickly, and the people were all
delighted to welcome a grandson of the late King, who had been
greatly beloved, notwithstanding a very awkward circumstance about a
Portmanteau, which, perhaps, I will tell you later on.

The little Prince and the Royal Nurse were conducted up the grand
staircase, the Prince turning around to Boy and saying, “Good-night,
little Boy, I’m sleepy tired now, but I shall see you to-morrow,” while
Boy and One-and-Nine were led in another direction to a suite of rooms
overlooking a beautiful garden. Here they were served with a bountiful
supper by a Footman, who had been set apart to wait upon them only. His
name, Boy found out, was Cæsar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith, but
he was called Thomas for short. Thomas was a very nice man, Boy thought,
and although he seemed to think a great deal of himself he was very kind
to them.

After they had finished supper and Thomas had cleared away the supper
things, Boy noticed that One-and-Nine seemed very quiet.

“Is there anything the matter?” he asked anxiously.

“I am afraid,” remarked One-and-Nine sadly, “that she will never
condescentionise to affectionate me.”

“Who?” exclaimed Boy.

“That majestuous lady, the Royal Nurse,” said One-and-Nine, sighing
sentimentally.

“You don’t mean to say that you have fallen in love with her, surely?”
 said Boy, feeling greatly inclined to laugh.

“Who could help it?” declared the Wooden Soldier. “I am completely
smot!”

[Illustration: 0114]

“Smot! What’s that?” asked Boy.

“Smite, smitten, smot,” exclaimed One-and-Nine.

“And what a charmaceous name, too,” he continued--“Martha Matilda
Nimpky. How lovelyish! Do you think she cares for me even a smallish
bit?”

“Well, I’m afraid she scarcely saw you, you know,” said Boy. “Perhaps
she will when she knows you better,” he added, wishing to comfort the
poor lovesick soldier.

“Do you think it would be wise to send her a love-letter?” asked
One-and-Nine anxiously, “or an Ode,” he suggested, brightening up. “Yes,
I’ll write her an Ode--that’s what I’ll do.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what an Ode is,” admitted Boy; “but I
suppose it won’t do any harm to send it.”

“Oh, an Ode is a kind of Poemish letter that people send when they are
in love. I’ve Oded before,” said One-and-Nine, giggling foolishly.

“What shall you say?” inquired Boy.

“Well, let me see,” said One-and-Nine. “In Oding a lady you have to
think of what you most admire in her, and take that as your subject.
The last time I Oded, you know, it was about Miss Dolly-girl’s eyes. It
began thusly:=

```"'The Rose is red, the Violet’s blue,

```But neither have such eyes as you.

```Yours are the kind I most admire;

```They shut and open with a wire.’=

Miss Dolly-girl told me she was much flatterated by the
complimentation.”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation at this point, and
on Boy’s calling out “Come in,” to their great surprise His Absolute
Nothingness the Public Rhymester entered. He was weeping, and carried
an enormous pocket-handkerchief, which he put to his eyes every now and
then.

[Illustration: 0117]

“I heard that you were greatly in favour with the young Prince,” he
began, in a broken voice, “and thought I would ask you if you would
kindly try and have me restored to my position as Court Poet again. I
assure you I am not really half as bad as they tried to make out at the
Committee Meeting this morning. The fact of the matter was I had just
received a great shock, and it had driven all the poetry out of my head.
Just as I was starting in the morning my wife told me that the cook had
left and the man had called for the taxes. It was enough to upset any
one, wasn’t it?”

“Well,” said Boy, who was a kind-hearted little fellow, “I don’t know
that we can do much for you, but I will certainly speak to the Prince on
your behalf to-morrow if you wish.”

“Oh, thank you! thank you very much, sir,” said the Public Rhymester,
brightening up at once, and vainly trying to stuff his handkerchief,
which was quite as large as a small table-cloth, into his pocket. “And
if I can ever do anything for you, write you a Valentine, you know, or
your Epitaph, I shall be only too delighted.” One-and-Nine, who had been
sitting bolt upright while this conversation was going on, seemed to be
suddenly-struck with a bright inspiration.

“Are you an Oder?” he asked abruptly of the Public Rhymester.

“An Oder?” repeated he vaguely. “What’s that?”

“A person who writes Odes, of course,” replied the Wooden Soldier;
“because, if you are, I should be greatly obligated if you would kindly
write one for me. I intentionized writing it myself, but I have been
considerizing that it would be more properish to have it written by a
real Poet.”

“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you!” cried the Public Rhymester gratefully,
“it is very kind indeed of you to say that. A poor Poet, you know, gets
very little praise from any one nowadays, especially a Minor one, such
as I am. Why, a Grand Old Statesman said the other day--but there, I
mustn’t let you into State Secrets. What is the subject upon which you
wish me to write?”

“Oh,--a--a--lady,” said One-and-Nine bashfully, blushing up to the roots
of his green paint.

“Of course,” said the Public Rhymester smilingly; “it usually is.”

“And particularly about er--er--a--the corkscrew curls, you know,” said
One-and-Nine, stammering nervously. “Such delightfulish fascinationizing
curls--six on each side, you know--and they woggle when she shakes
her head--oh, dearest, _dearest_ Martha Matilda,” and the poor Wooden
Soldier seemed quite overcome by his emotions.

“Ah! these military men, these military men,” said the Public Rhymester,
shaking his head, “what susceptible creatures they are, to be sure,
always in love with some fair one or other! But there, we must do the
best we can for him, I suppose. What is the lady’s name?” he inquired.

“Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky,” replied One-and-Nine faintly.

“What! the Royal Nurse?” exclaimed the Public Rhymester in surprise.

The Wooden Soldier nodded his head.

“Well, I hope you’ll win her,” said the Public Rhymester, “though I
think it’s only fair to warn you that you must expect to have a great
many rivals. Don’t you see,” he went on, “being Nurse to the little
King, she is sure to have immense influence over him, and so will be one
of the most important people in the kingdom. Oh, she’s sure to have
no end of suitors; however, you are first in the field, and a handsome
military man like yourself ought to stand a good chance. Now don’t speak
to me for a few moments while I write the poem for you.”

The Wooden Soldier and Boy sat perfectly still while the Public
Rhymester took a note-book and pencil from his pocket and began to walk
rapidly up and down the apartment, pausing now and then to jot something
down in his book, and occasionally clutching his hair and rolling his
eyes about violently. Once Boy sneezed, and the Public Rhymester
glared at him fiercely and then told him that he had entirely driven a
beautiful word which _might_ have rhymed with cucumber out of his head,
and he would have to alter the whole verse. At last, however, the poem
was finished and the Public Rhymester proudly read as follows:--

TO MRS. M. M. N.

``"Oh, Martha most majestic,

```Matilda quite sublime,

``For thee I’d do the bravest deeds,

```Most giddy heights would climb.=

``"Oh! almond rock’s delicious,

```And so is clotted cream,

``And Birthday Cake is not so bad;

```But these things tasteless seem;=

``"For I have seen Matilda,

```And other joys have fled,

``Her dazzling beauty’s vanquished me,

```And turned my wooden head.=

`"I love thee, dear Matilda,

```Far more than other girls,

``For there’s not one amongst them all

```That wears such corkscrew curls.=

``"Such lovely little corkscrew curls,

```Just six on either side,

``That woggle when you shake your head--

```Oh, will you be my bride?"=

“Isn’t the last line rather abrupteous?” inquired One-and-Nine when he
had finished.

“Why, that’s the best part about it,” replied the Public Rhymester. “You
see you pop the question so suddenly that you quite take the lady by
storm--and that line comparing her to ‘other girls’ is very wise, you
know; she is sure to feel flattered at that.”

“Do you think that I ought to sign my name at the bottom of it?” asked
One-and-Nine, folding the paper up neatly.

“I shouldn’t if I were you,” replied the Public Rhymester. “You can
see what effect this has upon the lady, and if you think that she is
pleased, I should follow it up with another, but I shouldn’t sign my
name at first; it will make it a little mysterious, you know, and ladies
like that sort of thing, I am told. But now I must be off. Good-night.
You won’t forget to do the best you can for me to-morrow, will you?” and
the Public Rhymester hurried away with his enormous handkerchief tucked
under his arm, while One-and-Nine sealed up the Poem--after adding the
following words, which he thought might improve it:=

```"The rose is red, the violet’s blue,

```Sardines are nice, and so are you”--=

and handed it to Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called
Thomas for short), to deliver, and then, after saying good-night to Boy,
retired to his own room, which was on the other side of the corridor.

[Illustration: 8121]

Boy sat up a little while longer, thinking of all the strange things
which had been happening; and then he followed the Wooden Soldier’s
example and went to rest too.

CHAPTER VII.--A STRANGE PARLIAMENT.

[Illustration: 9123]

HEN Boy awoke the next morning he found the whole Palace in a commotion.
Most of the Royal Household had been up all night making grand
preparations for the Coronation of the young King. Out in the courtyard
he could see the great gilded State Coach being dusted and brushed,
while footmen and stewards were rushing about on all sorts of errands.

Boy heard from One-and-Nine that a carriage had been provided for them
to join in the procession, which was to be a very extensive one. Animals
were coming in of their own accord from all parts of the country to
take part in it, and in the Park Boy was very much amused to see a
worried-looking goose trying to teach a number of cocks and hens to
march properly. The cocks were getting on famously, and held their heads
up and stepped out bravely, but the hens would stop to peck at every
worm and insect that they passed.

Several bands were practising in various parts of the grounds, and as
they were all playing different tunes at the same time, the music was
rather confusing.

Quite early in the morning the Lord High Adjudicator and most of
the Court officials whom Boy had previously seen, arrived and
began squabbling as to the order in which they should follow in the
procession. The Advertiser General and the Public Rhymester were talking
very excitedly about something or other. When the latter saw Boy he
hurried up to him and said anxiously, “I hope you haven’t spoken to the
Prince about me yet?”

“No,” replied Boy, “I haven’t seen him this morning.”

“Ah, that’s all right then,” said the Public Rhymester, with a sigh of
relief. “The Advertiser General has been explaining to me that I can
earn ever so much more money as a Public Rhymester than a Court Poet,
for you see I shall now be able to write poems for advertising purposes;
and he has already given me orders for several. I have to write a poem
on ‘Pea Soup for the Complexion,’ ‘Kofe’s Hair Restorer for making the
hair grow on worn-out brooms and brushes,’ and a new Soap which ‘won’t
wash clothes’ or anything else--that’s pretty good for a start, isn’t
it? So please don’t say anything about my having the position of Court
Poet restored to me, for I don’t think that I would accept the post if
it was offered me;” and the Public Rhymester went back to the Advertiser
General again.

Boy could see that the carriages were beginning to form in a line, so he
thought that it was time for him to get ready, and hurrying back to his
apartments, found One-and-Nine waiting for him.

Soon after this the procession started, and before getting into the
carriage with the Wooden Soldier Boy had a capital view of the young
Prince as he entered the State Coach accompanied by the Royal Nurse. The
dear little fellow looked very charming in a little white velvet suit
with diamond buttons and buckles, and wore a plumed cap which he raised
politely as the people cheered him along the route. Mrs. Martha Matilda
Nimpky, too, looked very important in a yellow satin gown, with a bonnet
trimmed with ribbons of all the colours of the rainbow.

Poor One-and-Nine was more lovesick than ever when he beheld her, and
scarcely noticed the beautiful decorations in the streets. Boy, however,
was charmed with them. Flags and banners and triumphal arches were to be
seen on all sides as they passed along, and Boy wondered how they could
possibly have put them up in so short a time.

The Coronation ceremony itself was a very imposing one, and it was a
beautiful sight to see the little King in his royal robes and crown and
sceptre, whilst the people shouted most enthusiastically, “Long live
the King, long live King Robert the Twenty-first” till they were hoarse.
Then they had all gone with the Court dignitaries to the House of Words,
where an address was read by the Lord High Adjudicator; but by this time
the poor little King was very tired indeed, and said that “he didn’t
want to hear all those old gentlemen talk any more.”

Of course this was rather awkward, as there were several more State
matters to be attended to, and the Royal Nurse tried to persuade the
little King to stop and listen to them.

“These gentlemen, Your Majesty,” said she, “are going to help you to be
King and show you how to govern your subjects wisely; you must hear what
they have to say.”

“But I don’t want them,” said His Majesty rebelliously, “I want some
little boys to come to help me be King, not all these old gentlemans;
and now I want to go back to the Palace and have my tea,” and the little
King got off the throne and toddled away with the Royal Nurse after him.

“Well, here’s a pretty kettle of fish,” said the Lord High Adjudicator
when they had gone. “Of course as he is King he will have to be obeyed,
but a parliament of children is positively absurd; and, besides, where
shall we be? I can’t think what’s to be done.”

“I suppose we couldn’t dress up as children, could we?” suggested the
Advertiser General after a pause.

“The very thing, of course,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, delighted
with this solution of the difficulty, and the meeting broke up in some
disorder, after it had been arranged that they should all meet next
morning attired as children and see if that would please the King.

In the evening there were fireworks and illuminations and a carnival
in the streets, which people attended dressed in all sorts of fantastic
garments.

Boy drove with One-and-Nine through the town to see the sights;
everybody was provided with paper bags filled with “confetti” (which in
this case were tiny little round pieces of coloured paper), with which
they pelted each other. Boy quite enjoyed the fun, and tired himself
out throwing confetti at the people as they passed, and getting handfuls
thrown back at him, till the carriage was nearly filled with gaily
coloured scraps of paper.

[Illustration: 0129]

The King watched the sights from the Balcony of the Palace, and it was
quite late before everybody got to bed and the town was quiet again.

At eleven o’clock the next morning the extraordinary Parliament met,
and the King was already seated with the Royal Nurse beside him when the
Politicians began to arrive. The Advertiser General looked very funny
in a short baby’s frock tied up with blue ribbons, while the Lord High
Fiddle-de-dee, being rather tall, had adopted a sailor’s suit, and
trundled a hoop. The Lord High Adjudicator had overdone the matter
and arrived in a. perambulator accompanied by a nurse carrying a
feeding-bottle. All the others were dressed as children too, and most
of them carried toys, and the noise of the penny trumpets which many of
them blew was quite deafening.

(See Frontispiece).

The little King laughed when he saw them, and declared that it was great
fun and much better than such a lot of talking about things that he
couldn’t understand.

He ordered that all the seats should be taken out of the hall so that
they could play games and use the toys which the Statesmen had brought;
he had, moreover, insisted on the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee going down
on his hands and knees and giving him a ride on his back all round the
room. Then they had gone out on to the Terrace which was outside the
House of Words and by which the river ran, and the King had screamed
with delight when, at Boy’s suggestion, all the old gentlemen played
at leapfrog, doing their best to look dignified in these trying
circumstances; then when they were all tired out, they went back to the
hall again and sat in a ring on the floor looking quite exhausted, while
the King demanded Nursery Rhymes.

The Busybody Extraordinary, who had been exerting himself more than all
the others in his efforts to please the King, immediately commenced to
repeat the following:--=

``"Sing a song of sixpence,

```A pocket full of Rye,

``About a foolish serving maid,

```To tell you I will try.=

``"The King was in his counting-house

```Bemoaning lack of money,

``The Knave was in the pantry

```Stealing bread and honey.=

``"The Queen was in her tiring-room

```Just trying a new dress,

``'The last one isn’t paid for yet,’

```I heard the Queen confess.=

``"The maid was in the garden

```Hanging out the clothes,

``While four-and-twenty dicky birds

``She balanced on her nose.=

[Illustration: 0131]

``"And while the birdies sat there,

```This maid began to sing.

``'I say, you know, I can’t stand that,’

```Called out the angry King.=

``"The maid she sang so out of tune

```It nearly drove him mad,

``So the Chamberlain discharged her,

```And every one was glad."=

“Aren’t you going to repeat the moral?” asked the Lord High
Fiddle-de-dee when he had finished.

“There isn’t one,” said the Busybody Extraordinary.

“Yes, there is; in fact, there are four morals to it,” said the Lord
High Fiddle-de-dee. “Aren’t there?” he asked, appealing to the others,
who nodded.

“What are they then?” said the Busybody Extraordinary.

``"Don’t always wear your Sunday clothes,

```Or it will make you vain.=

“That’s one,” replied the Advertiser General.

``"Don’t balance birds upon your nose,

```Or you’ll be thought insane.=

“That’s another,” said the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee.

``"If any one sings out of tune,

```It’s not much use to scold.

“That’s the third,” chimed in the First Lord of the Cash Box.

``"And if your voice is very harsh,

```Don’t sing unless you’re told.=

“And that’s the fourth,” added the Lord High Adjudicator.

“More,” shouted the King, clapping his hands, and the Kitchen Poker in
Waiting got up and said,--

“I know a short one, Your Majesty.”

“Go on,” replied the little King.

``"Hey diddle diddle the cat couldn’t fiddle,

```The cow turned her back on the moon,

``The little dog said, ‘This is very poor sport,’

```And the dish had a row with the spoon,”

repeated the Kitchen Poker in Waiting.

“Is that all?” asked the King. “Doesn’t any one else know another?”

“I think,” said Boy, “that I could repeat ‘Simple Simon.’”

“That’s right,” cried His Majesty; “try.”

So Boy began:

``"Simple Simon went a-skating

```On a pond in June.

``'Dear me,’ he cried, ‘this water’s wet,

```I fear I’ve come too soon.’=

``"Simple Simon saw a sparrow

```Flying through the air.

``'Why shouldn’t I have wings?’ he cried;

```'I’m sure it isn’t fair.’=

``"So simple Simon bought some feathers,

```Made a pair of wings;

``And now he’s broken both his legs

```He calls them ‘foolish things.’=

His Majesty seemed very pleased with this rhyme, and Boy had to say it
over again. Then the King proposed a game of blind man’s buff, and they
had a fine time in the old Hall, till tea was ready, when they all went
out on to the Terrace again and had it served at little tables.

[Illustration: 0135]

They had the bread and jam cut rather thick because they were all very
hungry after their exertions, and as His Majesty drank milk and water,
the others were obliged to do the same. Boy could see the Lord High
Adjudicator and the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee making very wry faces over
it; but it would not have been considered etiquette for them to have tea
while the King drank milk and water.

Soon after Tea His Majesty went back to the Palace after telling them
all that he had enjoyed himself very much indeed and hoped to see them
all the next day.

“That’s all very well,” said the Lord High Adjudicator, when His Majesty
and the Royal Nurse had gone, “but I don’t see how the Public affairs
can be attended to while this sort of thing goes on. I can quite see
that having a King so young as His Majesty may cause us considerable
difficulty in the future.”

“That is very easily remedied, gentlemen,” said a voice from the other
end of the Hall, and turning around they beheld an extraordinary-looking
old man, in a long, flowing red gown and a high conical hat. His beard,
which was very long, was perfectly white, while bushy black eyebrows
shaded a pair of very bright, piercing eyes; his hat and gown were both
embroidered with a number of mysterious-looking figures and signs. How
he had entered the Hall was a mystery, for no one saw him come in, and
there was no door near where he was standing.

“That’s very easily remedied, gentlemen,” he repeated, glancing rapidly
from one to the other from under his shaggy eyebrows. “I can very
soon help you out of the difficulty if you wish, for I am ‘Ohah,’ the
Magician. You may have heard of me before.”

CHAPTER VIII.--OH AH, THE MAGICIAN.

[Illustration: 9138]

HE greatest consternation followed this announcement, and the Lord High
Adjudicator in particular looked greatly alarmed.

“Wh--wh--what do you want?” he stammered nervously.

“I think I have the pleasure of addressing His Importance the Lord High
Adjudicator, have I not?” replied Ohah. “I scarcely recognised you in
that--ahem--that costume,” he added, smiling sarcastically.

“Oh, I wear it for the sake of coolness,” said the Lord High
Adjudicator, hastily his bib, which was somewhat disordered, been having
very warm weather lately.

“Oh! really!” said Ohah. “And I suppose you play leapfrog and blind
man’s buff for the sake of coolness too, eh? I should have thought that
at your time of life you had given up such frivolities.”

“It was His Majesty’s fault,” said the Lord High Adjudicator sheepishly;
“he _would_ have a parliament of children, and so we were obliged to
dress like this and play games, or we should have lost our positions.”

“H’m! doesn’t it strike you as being rather foolish to have a King so
young as your present one?” inquired Ohah.

“Well, it certainly has its disadvantages,” admitted the Lord High
Adjudicator; “but what are we to do? He is the lawful successor to the
throne, you know.”

“Well, I could soon help you out of that difficulty if you wished,” said
the Magician, a cunning look creeping over his face.

“What do you mean?” asked the Lord High Adjudicator.

“I could make him invisible, you know, like the Prince and Princess, and
then you could govern the country yourselves,” suggested Ohah.

“Oh, but that wouldn’t be right, surely,” said the Lord High
Adjudicator.

“Oh, I don’t know,” chimed in the Busybody Extraordinary; “we sha’n’t
be able to manage very well with a King like this, and if there was
no legal successor to the throne we could have a general election, you
know, and choose a King for ourselves.”

“Does it hurt much to be made invisible?” asked the Lord High
Adjudicator thoughtfully.

“Not a bit,” exclaimed Ohah; “it’s rather a pleasant sensation than
otherwise.”

“And how long would he have to remain in that state?” inquired the Lord
High Adjudicator.

“Oh! till the Portmanteau is found,” was the reply.

“The Portmanteau!” exclaimed the Lord High Adjudicator; “why, that will
never be found, you know; we had every house in Zum searched for it
years ago.”

“It must be here somewhere, and when it is found I am instructed by the
King of Limesia to make your Crown Prince and his bride visible again;
but in the meantime you had better let me make the little King invisible
too, for you can’t possibly go on as you are.”

“What do you think about it?” asked the Lord High Adjudicator of the
others.

“Well, I don’t think it’s at all a bad plan, do you know,” replied the
Advertiser General. “I can see that we shall have rather a hard time of
it if His present Majesty continues to reign; and if it wouldn’t hurt
him at all--”

“Not in the least,” interrupted Ohah.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t agree to it.”

“That’s right! and now, when shall I perform the operation?” said Ohah
in a business-like way.

“Oh, the sooner the quicker,” replied the Advertiser General. “What do
you say to to-morrow morning?”

“Yes, that will suit me nicely,” was the answer; and so it was arranged
that the poor little King should be rendered invisible the next day; but
Boy, who had been listening eagerly to all that had been going on, made
up his mind that he would do what he could to prevent it, so calling
One-and-Nine, he hurried to the Palace, and sent a message to the Royal
Nurse to say that he must have an interview with her immediately.

Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky received him in her own apartments, and
listened intently to all that he had to say.

“The wretches!” she exclaimed. “And that old villain Ohah! Of course he
has been sent by that horrible King of Limesia; who directly he has got
rid of this poor little fellow will come here and seize the throne for
himself: I can see through his little tricks and manners.”

“But what’s to be done?” cried Boy excitedly. “We must do something
to prevent it. I know,” he exclaimed after thinking for a moment,
“Professor Crab, of course. You could go and stay at his house with His
Majesty till we could find another place for him. Ohah wouldn’t think of
looking there, I am sure.”

“Where is Professor Crab’s?” inquired the Royal Nurse. “Drinkon
College,” replied Boy. “You go by the Submarine Navigation Company’s
Steamers, you know, and I will get One-and-Nine to escort you to the
College, while I stop here and see what goes on in your absence.”

“Do you mean that Soldier friend of yours?” inquired Mrs. Martha Matilda
Nimpky, blushing bashfully. “He seems to be a very nice gentleman.”

“Yes, he is,” replied Boy, “and he will be delighted, I am sure, to act
as your escort, for he admires you very much indeed.”

“Does he really?” said Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, giggling and shaking
her curls coquettishly. “How nice!”

“I don’t think there’s any time to lose,” said Boy; “you go and prepare
His Majesty, and I will go with you to the Station.”

A very few moments later they all met in the garden, and after Boy had
formally introduced One-and-Nine to Mrs. Martha Matilda Nimpky, they
left the Palace grounds by a small private gate, and after one or two
inquiries found themselves at the Quay. Fortunately there was a boat
starting soon, and so they were off, and Boy was back again to the
Palace before any one had missed them. He had barely, however, reached
his apartments in the Palace when Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius
Smith (called Thomas for short) brought him a card on which Boy read:

[Illustration: 0143]

“Dear me, I wonder what he wants to see me for?” he thought as he waited
for the Magician to enter.

“I thought you’d like to see some tricks,” said this gentleman as he
came in, “and it will be good practice for me for my important work
to-morrow. Now is there anything that you’d like to be turned into?”

“Oh no, thank you,” cried Boy, greatly alarmed, “I’m quite content to be
myself.”

“H’m! you are an exception to the general rule then. However, you _must_
be changed to something or other, for I want to have some practice. What
do you say to being a hen?” and the Magician stretched out his hands and
made a few mysterious passes, muttering some strange words the while.

Boy was just going to cry, “Oh! please no,” when he found to his great
dismay that he could not speak, and the only noise which he could make
sounded like “tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk ka-r-a-a-ka, tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk ka-ra-a-ka,”
 and when he looked down at his feet he found claws there instead, and
feathers on his body; in fact, he was completely transformed. He tried
to scream, but “tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-ka-r-a-a-ka” was the result and Ohah
was holding his sides with laughter while Boy ran and flew frantically
about the room, making this strange noise and clumsily knocking his beak
against the furniture on all sides, till presently he managed to get
under a chair at the further end of the room and miserably wondered what
would happen next.

[Illustration: 0145]

Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short)
hearing the noise rushed into the room, and made matters worse by trying
to drive the poor bewildered hen out.

“Shoo-shoo,” he cried, kicking under the chair, and Boy
flew out again and ran round and round the room calling out
“tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk-ka-ra-a-ka,” “tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk ka-ra-a-a-ka” as loudly
as he could till presently Ohah (who had been laughing the whole time)
made some further passes with his hand and muttered some more words,
and Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short)
changed at once into a little dog.

“Bow-wow-wow, yap-yap,” he barked, rushing at Boy; and then the old
chase began all over again, till at last by a great effort Boy flew up
on to the bookcase out of his reach. He felt very hot and tired, and
forgetting that he was a hen, began fumbling about for his handkerchief,
and in doing so nearly lost his balance and fell off his uncomfortable
perch. He felt greatly relieved when Ohah transformed Cæsar Maximilian
Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short) back to himself again,
and as soon as he had done so Boy flew down on to the floor; and it was
as well that he did, for with a wave of his wand (which he carried
up his sleeve) the Magician just then turned the bookcase into a big
humming-top and afterwards into a pair of steps, and then, apparently
satisfied that his powers as a Magician were in good working order, he
suddenly restored Boy and the bookcase to their original forms again.

“Oh,” cried Boy with a sigh of relief when he found that he was himself
once more, “that’s very interesting, sir, but please don’t do it again.”

“Why not?” laughed Ohah. “It’s as simple as A.B.C.; there is no danger.”

“Can you change yourself into things too?” inquired Boy.

“Yes!” said Ohah. “Would you like to see me? What shall I be?”

“Oh, something small, please. I should be terribly frightened if you
were to turn into a lion or bear, you see.”

“All right,” said Ohah, “I’ll be a Kottle.”

“What’s that?” cried Boy.

“Oh, a thing all _gribbins_ and _bones_,” explained Ohah. “Now watch,”
 and he waved his wand about his head two or three times, and then
disappeared.

Boy watched intently, for he wanted very much to find out what a Kottle
was; nothing appeared, though, except one or two oddly-shaped scraps
of paper, which Boy picked up and tried to fit together, for there was
something written on the back of them; at last he was able to make out
the following words:--“_I have forgotten how to change myself back from
a Kottle again. Goodbye for ever, Ohah._”

[Illustration: 0149]

“There!” exclaimed Boy. “Well, I must say I’m not very sorry, for he
must have been a most dangerous person to have about. I _should_ have
liked to have found out what a Kottle was, though.”

But he never did, and I may mention here that at Zum to this day they
have a habit of saying about anything that they don’t understand, “Oh,
it must be a Kottle.”

When Boy found that there was no chance of Ohah reappearing, he wondered
if he ought to send for the young King and the Royal Nurse to come back
again, but finally decided that in the present unsettled state of public
opinion it would be safer to wait a little while and see what happened;
because if the Lord High Adjudicator and the other Statesmen were
treacherous enough to hand the little King over to the tender mercies of
Ohah, Boy felt that he was not at all safe in their hands.

Shortly after this it was discovered that the King and the Royal Nurse
were missing, and the Lord High Adjudicator and the others flocked to
the Palace to find out if it were true.

Caesar Maximilian Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short)
explained what had happened to himself; and it was at once decided that
Ohah must have made the little King invisible rather sooner than he had
intended, and they all went back to the House of Words to talk over the
situation.

“Of course we must have a general election at once,” said the Lord High
Adjudicator when they had all settled down into their places, “to decide
who is to be made King.”

“I am still willing to accept the post, if you like,” suggested the
Kitchen Poker in Waiting disinterestedly.

“It will save the trouble of an election, you know; and I don’t wish to
boast, but I am quite sure that you could not possibly select anybody
nearly so suitable for the position as myself. Handsome, accomplished
and modest to a degree, I----”

“Here, here, that’s quite enough of that,” interrupted the Advertiser
General. “We have decided to elect a King by vote, and there’s an end of
the matter. I will go and have some posters printed and stuck about all
over the town, and we’ll soon have this matter put right. I shouldn’t be
at all surprised if I were elected myself. I’m a very popular man, you
know.”

“H’m!” sneered the Lord High Adjudicator, “I don’t think you will stand
much chance if I put up for the post, as I certainly intend to do.”

“Well, don’t let’s waste time wrangling,” suggested the Busybody
Extraordinary; “let’s decide when the election is to take place.”

“Oh, to-morrow, of course,” was the cry; “the sooner the better.”

So a notice was drawn up as follows, and the Advertiser General was
instructed to have it printed and posted on all the walls some time that
night, however late it might be.

NOTICE!

|Wereas His Majesty, King Robert the Twenty-first, has mysteriously
disappeared and there is no successor to the throne, an

```ELECTION

````OF A

```SUITABLE KING

will take place to-morrow at the House of Words. Each person to have one
vote. Polling papers can be had of the Town Clerk and must be filled
up and returned by two o’clock in the afternoon, when the Poll will be
closed.

``By Order,

```JOSHUA DOBBS,

````Lord High Adjudicator.

And as soon as this business was concluded the meeting broke up, and
every one hurried away to try and secure votes for himself.

The news spread like wild fire, and as he went back to the Palace, Boy
could see excited groups of people, and even animals, discussing the
matter, and on opening his window when he reached his apartments he
disturbed a large black cat who had just finished writing a placard on
which Boy could discern the words:--

VOTE

FOR

MR. THOMAS CAT,

A SICK WIFE AND SEVEN SMALL KITTENS.

[Illustration: 0153]

Boy shut the window and went to bed.

CHAPTER IX.--THE ELECTION.

[Illustration: 9154]

OY was awakened very early the next morning by Caesar Maximilian
Augustus Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short), who remarked with a
haughty air while setting the breakfast things,--

“I don’t suppose you will have me to wait upon you to-morrow morning,
sir.”

“Why not?” inquired Boy.

“I shall very likely have been made King by that time,” remarked the
footman with his nose in the air. “You can still stay at the Palace,
though, if you like.”

“Really!” exclaimed Boy. “Have you been elected then?” he asked,
forgetting that the Election did not take place till two o’clock in the
afternoon.

“Not yet,” admitted the footman, “but I’m pretty sure to be, because of
my name, you know.”

“Smith?” inquired Boy.

“No, the others,” said the footman impatiently. “Cæsar was a king, I’ve
heard, and so was Augustus, so was Maximilian, and so was Claudius, I
believe.”

“No, they were all emperors,” corrected Boy. “Cæsar, Augustus, and
Claudius, were emperors of Rome, and Maximilian was Emperor of Germany.
We heard all about them in our History class last term.”

“Are you sure, sir?” asked the footman mournfully.

“Yes, quite!” replied Boy decidedly.

“Dear me,” cried the poor man, “I’m afraid that I don’t stand quite as
much chance as I thought I did. What a pity! I’ve ordered my crown and
things too,” he continued. “Never mind! perhaps I may be elected
after all. I suppose, sir, if I offered to vote for you, you wouldn’t
vote for me, would you?”

“I don’t see how that would be of much use,” exclaimed Boy.

“Well, every vote helps, you know,” said Cæsar Maximilian Augustus
Claudius Smith (called Thomas for short). “Shall I go and get the
polling papers?”

Boy thought that it couldn’t possibly do much harm, so just to please
him he told the footman that he might go and get them; and when he
returned a few minutes later they were both solemnly filled up and taken
back to the Ballot Box. Then Boy finished his breakfast and started for
a walk.

The streets were filled with excited groups of people discussing their
own prospects of being elected King, and the walls were covered with
posters of all shapes and sizes begging for votes. One enterprising man
was offering _a thousand pounds_ to every one who would vote for him.

“Why, however can he pay them all?” exclaimed Boy to a person in the
street.

“Oh! people are never expected to keep the promises made at elections,”
 explained the man. “Now I don’t promise anything at all, but you only
just vote for me and see what _I’ll_ do for you if I’m made King.”

“I can’t,” said Boy. “I’ve already voted.”

“Oh, bother!” cried the man, “you’re no good to me, then,” and he
hurried on to the next person and began to beg for his vote.

Boy was soon surrounded by people bothering him to vote for them and was
quite glad to escape down a by-street where there was scarcely any one
to be seen, and where his attention was attracted by a curious-looking
sign affixed to a house worded like this--

[Illustration: 0157]

“What a funny sign!” thought Boy. “I wonder what it means?” and he was
still wondering when a Butcher’s Bill passed. He was a very tall boy
and carried a butcher’s tray on his shoulder. Of course, he was
whistling--all butcher boys do--but he stopped when he saw Boy and came
up to where he was standing.

“Can you tell me what that means, please?” asked Boy, pointing to the
sign.

“Can’t you read?” asked the Butcher’s Bill.

“Not Greek,” replied Boy. “That is Greek, isn’t it?” he asked; for it
looked to him very much like an inscription that he had once seen carved
over a big building in London, and which his Uncle had told him was
Greek.

“Greek! your grandmother!” exclaimed the Butcher’s Bill rudely. “It’s
Upside Downish.”

“What’s that?” asked Boy.

“I’ll tell you if you promise me your vote,” said the Butcher’s Bill.

“I’m very sorry,” replied Boy, “but I’ve already given it.”

“Then stand on your head and find out for yourself,” cried the rude
Butcher’s Bill, shouldering his tray and walking off again whistling
loudly.

“I wonder what he means?” thought Boy, staring at the letters; he could
make nothing of them, though, and was just going to walk away when he
saw the Advertiser General looking out of one of the windows above the
signboard.

“Come in,” he called. “I want to speak to you very particularly.”

Boy pushed the door open and found some steps inside which led up to a
large studio, in which he found the Advertiser General and the Public
Rhymester.

They both rushed at him as soon as he entered the door and each seized
one of his arms.

“Please promise me your vote,” they both exclaimed in one breath.

“Oh dear!” cried Boy, “I’m quite tired of telling everybody I have
already voted.”

The Advertiser General and the Public Rhymester both looked greatly
disappointed, and each let go of his arm and went back to his work.

“What are you doing, please?” inquired Boy.

“Can’t you see?” replied the Advertiser General snappishly. “We’re
making advertisements. Have you finished that Poem for Watzematta Tea
yet?” he asked of the Public Rhymester.

“Very nearly,” he replied with some confusion, hastily screwing up some
paper which he held in his hands into a ball.

“What’s that?” demanded the Advertiser General; “let me see.”

The Public Rhymester handed him the ball of paper, which the Advertiser
General carefully smoothed out.

“Did any one ever see such rubbish?” he exclaimed after he had read it.
“Why, you’ve mixed yourself up so with the tea that one can’t tell which
is which. Just read this,” and he handed Boy the crumpled pieces of
paper, on which were written the following words:=

`Delicious Watzematta is a very soothing tea,

`And when you’re voting for a King, oh, please remember me.

`It’s cheaper far than other sorts; it’s flavour’s full and free--

`And that I’d make a charming King, I’m sure you’ll all agree.=

`"One cup of Watzematta will equal any three

`Of other kinds; it is so nice--and so am I, you see.

`There never was another King so good as I will be.

`Pour boiling water on it (the tea I mean, not me)."=

“Well, it certainly is rather mixed,” said Boy when he had finished
reading this curious advertisement.

“Oh! I can’t settle down to anything till this Election is over,”
 complained the Public Rhymester. “How are you getting on?” he asked,
walking over to where the Advertiser General was painting an enormous
poster. “Why, you are as bad as I am,” he cried. “Look at that!” and
he pointed to a part of the poster on which the Advertiser General had
painted the words:=

``"Use Bluntpoint’s Needles. To be had of all

```respectable kings.”

“Good gracious, I meant drapers, of course,” cried the Advertiser
General, throwing down his brush. “Well, it’s evidently no use trying to
work till after the Election; we are all far too excited.”

“I was going to ask you,” said Boy, “what those words outside this house
meant.”

“Oh!” said the Advertiser General, “that is a very ingenious
advertisement of mine. You see the words are simply turned upside down,
so you have to stand on your head to read them properly. It’s a
capital idea. You see the great thing in advertising is to impress the
advertisement on the public mind, and if one has to stand on his head
the whole of the time he is reading it through, he is not likely to
forget it in a hurry, is he?

[Illustration: 0161]

This was the first advertisement ever written in that way,” and the
Advertiser General brought from a portfolio a large card bearing these
words:

“What _is_ all this nonsense about the Portmanteau?” exclaimed Boy. “I’m
always hearing something or other about it. Whose was it?”

“Ah! it may seem nonsense to you, but I assure you it was a very serious
matter for us at the time,” said the Advertiser General, while the
Public Rhymester nodded his head emphatically.

“You see the King of Limesia and our late sovereign King Robert the
Twentieth were very great friends, and the King of Limesia came to Zum
on a visit. Oh, it was a grand time, I can tell you. The streets were
decorated, and there were speeches and processions, and he was presented
with the freedom of the city in a casket made of solid gingerbread
gilded over so that it looked like real gold, and which he could eat
when he got tired of looking at.”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” interrupted Boy. “I have often read
of people being presented with addresses and things in gold caskets,
and I always wondered whatever use they could possibly be to them
afterwards.”

“Well,” continued the Advertiser General, “things went on swimmingly for
a few days till suddenly the King of Limesia’s Portmanteau disappeared
very mysteriously. No one had the slightest idea when, where, or
how. You would never believe the commotion it caused. Both Kings were
furious. King Robert declared that it _must_ and _should_ be found, and
had an organised search made in every house in Zum. Not one was passed
without having every room ransacked. The King of Limesia declared that
he would not remain a single day longer, and went off in a huff, and
altogether there was such a set out as you never saw.” #

“What was there in the Portmanteau?” asked Boy.

“Why, all the King’s clean collars, a new toothbrush, a receipt for
making toffee and lots of things. Well, I had to prepare a special
Poster to be stuck about the town, and by a splendid piece of good
fortune I thought of this system of advertising. It was great success
and caused an enormous sensation. Just fancy seeing the streets full
of people all standing on their heads at the same time reading the
advertisement.

[Illustration: 0163]

The King was delighted and made sure that we should soon find the
Portmanteau. We never did, though, to this day,” said the Advertiser
General mournfully, “and the King of Limesia and our late King never
made up the quarrel about it.”

“Well,” said Boy, “I think it was rather silly to make all that fuss
about an old Portm----”

But before he could finish the sentence cries of “Haste to the poll,”

“Haste to the poll” were heard in the street, and on looking out of the
window they saw people rushing frantically towards the House of Words.
Hastily snatching up their caps the Advertiser General and the Public
Rhymester rushed down the stairs and out into the road, and were soon
lost to sight in the crowd. Boy followed as quickly as he could, for
he wanted to hear who had been elected King. He could not get near the
House of Words because of the crowd, but he could see by a clock in the
street that it was nearly two, so the suspense would soon be over.

“Do you think that I stand any chance, sir?” inquired a
melancholy-looking person standing near Boy.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied he.

“Because if I do I don’t know however I shall be able to afford a crown
and sceptre. Are they very expensive, do you know?”

“Why, I should think they would be provided for you if you were elected
King, wouldn’t they?” asked Boy.

“I’m sure I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t gone in for it at all,” replied
the man; “I’m a shoemaker by trade, and my wife she said to me, ‘What a