CHAPTER IV
LOST
We had a terrible fright the next morning, for the poor dear Wallypug got lost, and for some time we could not imagine what had become of him.
It happened in this way: directly after breakfast his Majesty said that he should like to go for a walk and look at the shops.
“I’m not going,” declared the Doctor-in-Law. “I have some very important letters to write.”
We all looked up in surprise, for we did not know that the Doctor-in-Law had any other acquaintances in London.
“Letters from which I hope to derive a princely income,” continued the little man grandly; “and, therefore, I have no time for such foolishness as looking into shop windows.”
“He’s afraid thad he bight have to sped sub buddy,” remarked A. Fish, Esq.
“Nothing of the sort,” replied the Doctor-in-Law, turning very red though.
“Well, don’t waste time talking about it; let’s go if we are going,” said the Rhymester; and so, as I also had some correspondence to attend to, it was arranged that the Wallypug, the Rhymester, and A. Fish, Esq., should go for a little stroll by themselves. I had some doubts in my own mind as to the advisability of letting them go alone, but they promised not to go beyond Kensington Gardens, and to wait for me there just inside the gates.
After they had gone I settled down to my letter-writing, and was getting along nicely when the Doctor-in-Law interrupted me with:
“I say, I wish you would let me have about twenty sheets of note-paper, will you, please?”
“Twenty!” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, twenty,” said the Doctor-in-Law. “Or you had better make it a quire while you are about it.”
I thought the quickest way to get rid of him was to give him the paper, so I got up and got it for him.
“And a packet of envelopes, please,” he said, as I handed it to him.
“Anything else?” I asked rather sarcastically.
“Stamps!” he replied, calmly holding out his hand.
“Well, really – ” I expostulated.
“Oh, halfpenny ones will do. You’re surely not so mean as to mind tenpence, are you?”
“I don’t think I’m mean, but – ”
“Hand them over then, and don’t waste so much time talking,” said the little man impatiently, and so, just to get rid of him, I gave him the stamps and sat down to my letters again.
I had hardly begun when he came back.
“Don’t you take any other newspapers than these?” he demanded, showing me a handful.
“No, I don’t, and I think it’s rather extravagant of me to have those,” I replied.
“Well, then, how do you suppose that I am going to manage? I want at least five other papers, and it’s most important that I should have them.”
“You might buy them,” I suggested.
“They are so dear,” he grumbled.
“Well, why don’t you go to the Public Library then?” I suggested. “You know where it is, and you could see all of the papers there, you know.”
“Ah, a capital idea,” he said, putting on his hat and going out.
“Now,” I thought, “I shall have peace at last.”
I was not left undisturbed long though, for a few minutes later Mrs. Putchy came to the door.
“Oh, please, sir, will you go down? Mr. Doctor-in-Law is having such a bother with the postman.”
I hurried out, and found the little man very angry indeed.
“This postman won’t give me a letter,” he cried when he saw me.
“Perhaps he hasn’t one for you,” I answered.
“But I saw him giving them away all down the street for nothing,” persisted the Doctor-in-Law. “And when I asked him in a civil way for one, he refused to give it to me. It’s no use for him to say he hasn’t one, when he has a whole packet in his hand now, and a lot more in his bag, no doubt. Are you going to give me a letter or not?” he continued, turning to the postman.
“No, sir,” continued the man, smiling. “I haven’t any for you.”
“Very well, then,” said the Doctor-in-Law decidedly, “I shall certainly write to the Queen and tell her that if she employs you any longer I shall take all my custom away, and I shall not send the twenty letters, that I intended writing to-day, off at all.”
I endeavoured to explain to the little man that the postman could not possibly give him a letter if he had not one addressed to him.
“Oh, that’s all nonsense,” he exclaimed, going off in a huff. “Of course you would take his part.”
Before I could settle down to work again the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq., returned.
“Where’s the Wallypug?” I demanded.
“Oh, he’s coming by the next ’bus,” said the Rhymester. “Haven’t you had any rain here?”
“No,” I replied.
“Oh, we had quidt a sharb shower,” said A. Fish, Esq., “ad I was afraid of gettig wet, so we stopped a ’bus – there was odly roob for two though, ad the Wallypug said thad he would cub od by the dext.”
“I hope he will get home all right,” I said anxiously. “I don’t think you ought to have left his Majesty by himself.”
“Oh! it’s only a little way,” said the Rhymester; “he’s sure to get home all right.”
An hour passed and there was no signs of the Wallypug. I now began to get seriously anxious.
It would, of course, be the easiest thing in the world for his Majesty to take the wrong ’bus, and be taken goodness knows where.
I couldn’t think what was best to be done. The Rhymester suggested sending the Crier out, but I never remembered having seen one at Kensington, and at last, after searching for some time ourselves in Kensington Gardens, and making inquiries in High Street, and failing to glean any tidings of his Majesty, I thought it best to go to the Police Station.
Here I found a very important-looking official in uniform, with a big book in front of him.
“What is it?” he inquired, glaring at me fiercely.
“I’ve called to know if you could assist me in finding a friend who, I fear, has lost his way,” I replied.
The official did not answer me, but reached down another large book.
“What’s his name?” he inquired gruffly.
“His name? Oh – er – his name is – er – that is to say he is the – ” I had not the least idea what the Wallypug’s name really was, so I couldn’t very well say.
“What’s his name?” shouted the official. “I’ll ask you what he is presently.”
“Well, I’m very sorry, but I really do not know his name.”
The man glanced at me very suspiciously.
“You said he was a friend of yours – it’s a very odd thing that you don’t know his name. What is he?”
“He’s a – a – Wallypug,” I stammered. “That is to say he – er – ”
“Wallypug!” exclaimed the man contemptuously. “What’s that?”
“Why, it’s a kind of king, you know,” I explained, feeling that the explanation was rather a lame one.
“A kind of king!” exclaimed the police officer. “Explain yourself.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t explain more clearly than that,” I replied. “This gentleman has been staying with me for a couple of days, and went out this morning and lost his way.”
“Where did he come from?” asked the man.
“Why,” I answered.
“Why? Because I want to know,” he shouted. “Don’t let me have any further prevarication. Where did the man, or Wallypug, or whatever you call him, come from?”
“From Why. From a place called Why, you know,” I repeated.
“I don’t know,” said the officer. “I’ve never heard of such a place. Where is it?”
“Well, really,” I said, “I’m very sorry, but I cannot tell you. I don’t know myself.”
“This is very remarkable,” said the man, glaring at me through his glasses. “You don’t know your friend’s name; you call him a Wallypug, and can’t explain what that is, you don’t know where he comes from – perhaps you can tell me how he reached your house?”
I was now really in a fix, for how could I tell this man that his Majesty had stepped out of a picture.
I thought the best thing to do was to hold my tongue.
“How did he come?” repeated the officer. “By train?”
I shook my head.
“By steamer?”
I shook my head again.
“Did he drive? – or come on a bicycle, or walk?”
I remained silent.
The police officer stared at me for a moment or two, waiting for my answer.
“Look here, young man,” said he at last, evidently very angry indeed. “It strikes me that you are having a game with me. You had better go away quietly or I shall be obliged to take you in charge as a lunatic.”
“But I assure you that – ”
“How was your friend dressed?”
“Oh, he wore a somewhat battered gold crown, and carried an orb and sceptre, and was dressed in knee breeches and a velvet cloak with an ermine collar.”
The man gave me a keen glance and then rang a bell. A policeman appeared a moment or two afterwards, and the officer whispered something to him, of which I only caught the words, “harmless lunatic.”
“Lunatic, sir; yes, sir. Step this way, please,” said the policeman, and before I could realize what had happened I was bundled into a small bare room, and the key was turned in the lock and I was a prisoner.
Here was a pretty state of affairs. The stupid people had mistaken me for a lunatic, and I was no doubt to be locked up here till a doctor arrived.
Of course the only thing for me to do was to sit still and wait as patiently as I could. Fortunately the police people thought of telegraphing to the other stations to find out if anything was known of an escaped lunatic; and from Fulham came the reply, “We have found one ourselves. He calls himself a Wallypug, and is dressed like a second-hand king.” This caused inquiries to be made, and eventually I was taken in a cab to Fulham, where we found his Majesty in the charge of the police, he having been found wandering about the Fulham Road quite unable to give what they considered a satisfactory account of himself.
It was most unfortunate that his Majesty should have taken the wrong ’bus, for, not having any money with him, he was set down in a totally strange neighbourhood, and had quite forgotten my address. Of course, now that we had been brought face to face, we had no difficulty in convincing the police people that we were what we represented ourselves to be, and were soon, to our great relief, on our way home again.
“I don’t think that I should like to be a policeman,” remarked the Wallypug, on our way there.
“No?” I answered. “Why not?”
“They have to catch dogs for a living?” remarked his Majesty solemnly. “There were several brought in while I was waiting, and the policeman who had caught them seemed so pleased about it.”
I explained to the Wallypug as well as I was able about the muzzling order, and his Majesty was highly indignant, and when I pointed out several dogs with muzzles on he was more indignant still.
“And are they always obliged to wear those horrible wire cages over their heads?” he inquired.
I told his Majesty that in London the order for wearing them had been in force for some considerable time, and we had a long talk over the matter, his Majesty declaring that he should try and invent a new muzzle which should be more comfortable for the poor dogs.
“Oh, here we are at last,” he exclaimed, as we turned the corner near my house. “And there are the others on the steps!”
“Here they are! Here they are!” shouted the Rhymester to the others, and everyone rushed forward to assist his Majesty to alight, seemingly very glad to see us back again.
We were quite as delighted to get back, I can tell you, and I was so relieved at having found the Wallypug that I hadn’t the heart to refuse the Doctor-in-Law’s request that I would give him ten shillings worth of penny stamps to put into the letters which he had been writing while we had been away, although he would not give me the slightest clue as to what they were wanted for.
CHAPTER V
AN ‘AT HOME’ AND THE ACADEMY
We were quite ready for luncheon, as you may imagine, after our morning’s adventures, and directly afterwards his Majesty set to work on the new dog’s muzzle which he had promised to invent. In about half an hour he had constructed one with which he was intensely delighted, and he persuaded A. Fish, Esq., to try it on that we might see the effect.
It certainly was very simple, but as there was nothing whatever to go over the mouth, I felt sure that it could not possibly be very useful. I did not like to tell his Majesty so though, for he seemed so thoroughly proud of his achievement.
It was now time to go to the ‘At Home,’ so, wishing to do honour to the occasion, our ‘State Coach,’ as we called it, was sent for, and we drove off in fine style.
There were a great many people invited to meet us, and I could see that there was quite a little flutter of excitement when the Wallypug entered.
His Majesty, however, in his simple, good-natured way soon put everybody at their ease, and laughed and chattered with the utmost affability.
Girlie and Boy had both been allowed to come into the drawing-room, and Girlie quite claimed the Wallypug as her own particular guest, while Boy renewed his acquaintance with the Rhymester, whom he had met before at Zum, and despite their mother’s protests they carried these two members of our party off in triumph to show them their play-room and toys and to talk over old times.
While they were away the Doctor-in-Law made himself very agreeable to the ladies, and I watched him bowing and smiling and chatting, first with one group, then with another, with great amusement. I found out afterwards that he had promised several of them portraits of his Majesty and suite for 2s. 6d. each as soon as they should be taken, and in every case had asked for the money in advance; but the great event of the afternoon was when A. Fish, Esq., wrapped up in Mrs. Putchy’s pink woollen shawl, borrowed for the occasion, and surrounded by a group of young ladies, consented after much pressing to deliver part of his lecture on the “Perhapness of the Improbable.”
“You bust sed for the Rhymebster though to help be to read id, for by cold is still so bad thad I can’d do id by byself,” he explained.
So the Rhymester was sent for, and his Majesty also came down to hear the wonderful lecture. It had been turned into verse by the Rhymester, who, after an affected attempt to clear his throat, read as follows:
THE PERHAPNESS OF THE IMPROBABLE
If this were that, and these were those,
And hither nearer thither,
Why, which might be whate’er it chose,
And there be any whither.
Somehow ’twould be the simpler way
To dearer be than cheaper,
And that’s why when (each other day)
Would higher be than deeper.
So worst would be the best of all,
And far more less than either;
While short would certainly be tall,
And therefore thus be neither.
“Beautiful! charming!” echoed all the young ladies at once when he had finished, while one lady sitting near me exclaimed, “How sweetly simple!” For my own part I thought that it was anything but simple, and caught myself trying to follow the line of argument with the most brain-confusing results.
The Wallypug was greatly distressed when he discovered that while listening to the reading, and looking at the charming young lady with whom he had been conversing, he had absent-mindedly spilt the whole of his cup of tea over her dress.
“You see, they didn’t give me a plate to put my cake on,” I heard him explain apologetically, “and it was so awkward, for my cup would keep slipping about on the saucer.”
The young lady smiled very sweetly and assured his Majesty that it didn’t matter in the least, and shortly afterwards we left, having stayed, as it was, far beyond the regulation time.
When we arrived home we found a letter addressed to the Rhymester in the letter-box, which in a state of great excitement he tore open with trembling fingers.
Upon reading the contents he burst into tears.
“Poor man, poor man!” he sobbed. “I am so sorry to have caused him so much trouble.”
“It is a letter from an Editor,” he explained through his tears, “and he is in great distress through not being able to publish my poem. He says he greatly regrets his inability to make use of it! Poor man, he evidently feels it very keenly. I must write and tell him not to be too unhappy about it.”
I had some letters to write too, one to a photographer in Regent Street, asking for an appointment the next morning, for I was determined that the Doctor-in-Law should send the promised photographs to the young ladies without delay.
The first thing in the morning came a telegram to say that we could be photographed at eleven o’clock, so, after my guests had made themselves as spruce as possible, we started off and reached there in good time.
It was suggested that the Wallypug should be taken by himself, but when he saw the camera pointed directly at him while the operator disappeared beneath the black cloth, he came to the conclusion that it was too dangerous a machine to be faced with impunity, so he suddenly turned his back upon it, and nervously fled from the room.
It was only by promising that the others should be taken with him that we could get him to sit at all, and even then there was a strained and nervous expression upon his face, which suggested that he was in momentary fear that the thing would “go off.”
The Rhymester insisted upon being taken with one of his poems in his hand, the Doctor-in-Law wore his usual complacent smile, and altogether the group was quite a success.
As soon as the “operation,” as the Wallypug would insist upon calling it, was over, we went downstairs, his Majesty leading the way, while the Doctor-in-Law stayed behind for a moment to make some arrangements with the photographer about commission. We had intended going home by ’bus, but when we got to the door his Majesty was nowhere to be seen. What could have become of him? We looked up and down the street, but could see no signs of him anywhere; and at last, after hunting about for a considerable time, he was discovered calmly sitting inside a furniture removal van, waiting for it to start, under the impression that it was an omnibus.
“I’m sure this is the right one,” he explained, “for it has ‘Kensington’ printed in large letters on it. Come along, there’s plenty of room inside; the conductor and the driver will be here presently, I suppose.”
I laughingly explained to his Majesty the mistake which he had made, and we walked on as far as Piccadilly Circus, where we found a ’bus to take us to the Academy, which we intended visiting on our way home. We had not gone far though, when I suddenly remembered that the 22nd June was very close at hand, and that I had better make arrangements for seats to view the Jubilee Procession or I should be too late. So it was arranged that the Doctor-in-Law should take charge of the party while I went on to the agents to see about the seats. They would have no difficulty in getting home by themselves for the ’buses ran from just outside the Academy doors straight to Kensington, so I felt sure that they would be all right.
“How much is the entrance fee to the Academy?” asked the Doctor-in-Law, as I was getting down from the ’bus.
“A shilling each,” I replied, and I saw the little man collecting the money from the others as the ’bus disappeared from view.
I was very fortunate at the agents in being able to secure a capital window in Piccadilly, and some Stores in the neighbourhood undertook to provide a luncheon and to suitably decorate the window for us.
These arrangements being satisfactorily concluded, I hurried home, and was greatly relieved to find my guests there before me.
“How did you enjoy the Academy?” I inquired.
“Not at all!” said his Majesty decidedly.
“Waste of money, I call it,” said the Rhymester, sniffing contemptuously.
“I was dever so disappointed id edythig id all by life!” declared A. Fish, Esq.
“Besides, the catalogue was no good at all,” complained his Majesty. “We could make neither head nor tail of it.”
The Doctor-in-Law was silent, and it was only by very careful inquiry that I found out that, after pocketing their money, he had taken them to an immense hoarding covered with advertisement posters, and had gammoned them into believing that that was the Academy, while it was no wonder that the poor Wallypug could not understand the ‘catalogue,’ for it was nothing more nor less than an old illustrated stores price list.
It was really too bad of the Doctor-in-Law.