Mollie and the Unwiseman Abroad Part 28

"So that really my share comes to--say four and a quarter thousandths of a cent--that it?" demanded the Unwiseman.

"Something like that," laughed the Inspector.

"Well then," said the Unwiseman, taking a copper coin from his pocket, "here's a cent. Can you change it?"

"We don't do business that way," said the Inspector impatiently. "We examine your baggage and tax that--that's all. If you refuse to let us, we confiscate the bag, and fine you anywhere from $100 to $5000. Now what are you going to do?"

"What he says is true," said the Policeman, "and I'd advise you to save trouble by opening up the bag."

"O well of course if _you_ say so I'll do it, but I think it's mighty funny just the same," said the Unwiseman, rising from the carpet-bag and handing it over to the Inspector. "In the first place it's not polite for an entire stranger to go snooping through a gentleman's carpet-bag.

In the second place if the Secretary of the Treasury hasn't got enough money on hand when pay-day comes around he ought to state the fact in the newspapers so we citizens can hustle around and raise it for him instead of being held up for it like a highwayman, and in the third place it's very extravagant to employ a man like Mr. Maginnis here for three dollars a week or whatever he gets, just to collect four and a quarter thousandths of a cent. I don't wonder there ain't any money in the treasury if that's the way the Government does business."

So the inspection of the Unwiseman's carpet bag began. The first thing the Inspector found upon opening that wonderful receptacle was "French in Five Lessons."

"What's that?" he asked.

"That's a book," replied the Unwiseman. "It teaches you how to talk French in five easy lessons."

"What did you pay for it?" asked the Inspector.

"I didn't pay anything for it," said the Unwiseman. "I found it."

"What do you think it's worth?" queried the Inspector.

"Nothing," said the Unwiseman. "That is, all the French I got out of it came to about that. It may have been first cla.s.s looking French, but when I came to use it on French people they didn't seem to recognize it, and it had a habit of fading away and getting lost altogether, so as far as I'm concerned it ain't worth paying duty on. If you're going to tax me for that you can confisticate it and throw it at the first cat you want to scare off your back-yard fence."

"What's this?" asked the Inspector, taking a small tin box out of the bag.

"Ginger-snaps, two bananas and an eclair," said the Unwiseman. "I shan't pay any duty on them because I took 'em away with me when I left home."

"I don't know whether I can let them in duty-free or not," said the Inspector, with a wink at the Policeman.

"Well I'll settle that in a minute," said the Unwiseman, and reaching out for the tin-box in less than two minutes he had eaten its contents.

"You can't tax what ain't, can you?" he asked.

"Of course not," said the Inspector.

"Well then those ginger-snaps ain't, and the bananas ain't and the eclair ain't, so there you are," said the Unwiseman triumphantly. "Go on with your search, Uncle Sammy. You haven't got much towards the President's salary yet, have you!"

The Inspector scorned to reply, and after rummaging about in the bag for a few moments, he produced a small box of macaroni.

"I guess we'll tax you on this," he said. "What is it?"

"Bait," said the Unwiseman.

"I call it macaroni," said the Inspector.

"You can call it what you please," said the Unwiseman. "I call it bait--and it's no good. I can dig better bait than all the macaroni in the world in my back yard. I fish for fish and not for Eye-talians, so I don't need that kind. If I can't keep it without paying taxes for it, confisticate it and eat it yourself. I only brought it home as a souvenir of Genoa anyhow."

"I don't want it," said the Inspector.

"Then give it to the policeman," said the Unwiseman. "I tell you right now I wouldn't pay five cents to keep a piece of macaroni nine miles long. Be careful the way you handle that sailor suit of mine. I had it pressed in London and I want to keep the creases in the trousers just right the way the King wears his."

"Where did you buy them?" asked the Inspector, holding the duck trousers up in the air.

"Right here in this town before I stole on board the _Digestic_," said the Unwiseman.

"American made, are they?" asked the Inspector.

"Yes," said the Unwiseman. "You can tell that by lookin' at 'em. They're regular canvas-back ducks with the maker's name stamped on the b.u.t.tons."

Closer inspection of the garment proved the truth of the Unwiseman's a.s.sertion and the Inspector proceeded.

"Didn't you make any purchases abroad?" he asked. "Clothes or jewels or something?"

"I didn't buy any clothes at all," said the Unwiseman. "I did ask the price of a Duke's suit and a Knight gown, but I didn't buy either of them. You don't have to pay duty on a request for information, do you?"

"You are sure you didn't buy any?" repeated the Inspector.

"Quite sure," said the Unwiseman. "A slight misunderstanding with the King combined with a difference of opinion with his tailor made it unnecessary for me to lay in a stock of royal raiment. And the same thing prevented my buying any jewels. If I'd decided to go into the Duke business I probably should have bought a few diamond rings and a half a dozen tararas to wear when I took breakfast with the roil family, but I gave that all up when I made up my mind to remain a farmer.

Tararas and diamond rings kind of get in your way when you're pulling weeds and planting beets, so why should I buy them?"

"How about other things?" asked the Inspector. "You say you've been abroad all summer and haven't bought anything?"

"I didn't say anything of the sort," said the Unwiseman. "I bought a lot of things. In London I bought a ride in a hansom cab, in Paris I bought a ride in a one horse fakir, and in Venice I bought a ride in a Gandyola. I bought a large number of tarts and plates of ice cream in various places. I bought a couple of souvenir postal cards to send to Columbus's little boy. In Switzerland I didn't buy anything because the things I wanted weren't for sale such as pet shammys and Alps and Glaziers and things like that. There's only two things that I can remember that maybe ought to be taxed. One of 'em's an air gun to shoot alps with and the others a big alpen-stock engraved with a red hot iron showing what mountains I didn't climb. The Alpen-stock I used as a fish pole in Venice and lost it because my hook got stuck in an artist's straw hat, but the air gun I brought home with me. You can tax it if you want to, but I warn you if you do I'll give it to you and then you'll have to pay the tax yourself."

Having delivered himself of this long harangue, the Unwiseman, quite out of breath, sat down on Mollie's trunk and waited for new developments.

The Inspector apparently did not hear him, or if he did paid no attention. The chances are that the Unwiseman's words never reached his ears, for to tell the truth his head was hidden way down deep in the carpet-bag. It was all of three minutes before he spoke, and then with his face all red with the work he drew his head from the bag and, gasping for air observed, wonderingly:

"I can't find anything else but a lot of old bottles in there. What business are you in anyhow?" he asked. "Bottles and rags?"

"I am a collector," said the Unwiseman, with a great deal of dignity.

"Well--after all I guess we'll have to let you in free," said the Inspector, closing the bag with a snap and scribbling a little mark on it with a piece of chalk to show that it had been examined. "The Government hasn't put any tax on old bottles and junk generally so you're all right. If all importers were like you the United States would have to go out of business."

"Junk indeed!" cried the Unwiseman, jumping up wrathfully. "If you call my bottles junk I'd like to know what you'd say to the British Museum.

That's a sc.r.a.p heap, alongside of this collection of mine, and I don't want you to forget it!"

And gathering his belongings together the Unwiseman in high dudgeon walked off the pier while the Inspector and the Policeman watched him go with smiles on their faces so broad that if they'd been half an inch broader they would have met behind their necks and cut their heads off.

"I never was so insulted in my life," said the Unwiseman, as he told Mollie about it in the carriage going up to the train that was to take them back home. "He called that magnificent collection of mine junk."

"What was there in it?" asked Mollie.

"Wait until we get home and I'll show you," said the Unwiseman. "It's the finest collection of--well just wait and see. I'm going to start a Museum up in my house that will make that British Museum look like cinder in a giant's eye. How did you get through the Custom House?"

"Very nicely," said Mollie. "The man wanted me to pay duty on Whistlebinkie at first, because he thought he was made in Germany, but when he heard him squeak he let him in free."

"I should think so," said the Unwiseman. "There's no German in his squeak. He couldn't get a medium sized German word through his hat. If he could I think he'd drive me crazy. Just open the window will you while I send this wireless message to the President."