Mollie and the Unwiseman Part 17

"Oh--I know. You mean a satchel," said Mollie.

"Maybe I do," observed the Unwiseman. "But I thought the word was s.n.a.t.c.hel, because it was a thing you could s.n.a.t.c.h up hurriedly and run to catch a train with. Anyhow, I made one and put some four or five pounds of potery in it, and started out to sell it. The first place I went to they said they liked my potery very much, but they couldn't use it because it didn't advertise anything. They wanted sonnets about the best kind of soap that ever was; or what they called a hook-and-eye lyric; or perhaps a few quatrains about baking-powders, or tooth-wash, or some kind of silver-polish. People don't read poems about mysteries and little red school-houses, and patriotism any more, they said; but if a real poet should write about a new kind of a clothes-wringer or a patent pickle he'd make a fortune, because he'd get his work published on fences and in railroad cars, which everybody sees, instead of in magazines that n.o.body reads."

"I've seen lots of those kinds of poems," said Mollie.

"They're mighty good reading, too," said Whistlebinkie. "And is that what you are going to do?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "They'd pay for it when they published it."]

"Not I!" retorted the Unwiseman, scornfully. "No, indeed, I'm not.

Shakespeare never did such a thing, and I don't believe Milton did either, and certainly I shall not try it. The next place I went to they said they liked my potery well enough to print it, but I'd have to pay for having it done, which was very hard, because I hadn't any money. The next place they took a sonnet and said they'd pay for it when they published it, and when I asked when that would be, they said in about thirty-seven years."

"Mercy!" cried Mollie.

"That's what I said," said the Unwiseman, ruefully. "So again I went on until I found an editor who was a lovely man. He read all my things through, and when he'd finished he said he judged from the quality of my potery I must be a splendid writer of prose."

Whistlebinkie laughed softly.

"Yes," said the Unwiseman, "that's what he said. 'Mr. Unwiseman,' said he, 'after reading your poetry, it seems to me your _forte_ is prose.'

And I told him perhaps he was right, though I didn't know what he meant.

At any rate, he was very good to me, and asked me where I lived, and all that. When I told him that I lived everywhere; how I just moved my house around to suit myself, and lived one day here and another day in Illinois, and another in Kamschatka, he grew interested at once."

"I should think he might," put in Mollie. "I didn't know you could move as far as Kamschatka."

"Certainly I can," said the Unwiseman; "and in a way that is what I am going to do. I have been engaged to travel in various parts of the world just by moving my house around at will, and what I see and do under such circ.u.mstances I am to write up for that editor's paper."

"Why it's perfectly splendid!" cried Mollie, clapping her hands together with glee at the very idea. "I wish I could go with you."

"Me too!" whistled Whistlebinkie.

"Woof--woof!" barked Gyp, which the Unwiseman took to mean that Gyp wished also to be included.

"All right," said the Unwiseman. "I've no objection."

"I don't know what they'd say at home," said Mollie, as she thought of possible objections to the trip.

"Why they won't say anything," said the Unwiseman. "I'll only travel afternoons. We'll be back every day by six o'clock, and I don't suppose we'll start much before three. This house is a rapid traveller once she gets started. Just wait a minute and I'll show you. Sit tight in your chairs now. One--two--three--LET HER GO!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The house, whizzed rapidly through the air."]

The old gentleman touched a b.u.t.ton in the wall. The house shook violently for a second, apparently whizzed rapidly through the air, if the whistling of the wind outside meant anything, and then suddenly, with a thump and a b.u.mp, came to a standstill.

"Here we are," said the Unwiseman, opening the door. "Come outside."

The little party emerged, and Mollie was amazed to find herself standing on the top of a wonderful hill gazing out over the waters of a beautiful body of water of the most heavenly blue. At her feet a little yellowish city nestled into the hillside, and across a strip of silvery water was a huge and frowning fortress.

"This, Miss Whistlebinkie, is the city of Havana," said the Unwiseman to the astonished little maid. "You have come all the way from home to Cuba in five seconds--a distance of 1200 miles. So you see we can do all our travelling in the afternoons, and without your being away from your home any more than you naturally are during your play-time hours."

Mollie made no answer for a moment. She was too astonished to speak.

Whistlebinkie was the first to recover, and he was not long in expressing his sentiments.

"Imagoin'," he whistled.

Gyp barked a similar resolution, whereupon Mollie said she'd see.

"But let us hurry back home again," she added, somewhat anxiously. She did not quite like being so far away from home without her mother knowing it.

"Certainly," said the Unwiseman, touching the b.u.t.ton again. The violent shaking and whizzing sounds were repeated, and again, with a thump and a b.u.mp, the house came to a standstill. The Unwiseman opened the front door, and there they were, safe and sound, in the back yard of Mollie's home.

That night the little girl told the story of the day's adventure to her father, and he said that, under the circ.u.mstances, he had not the slightest objection to her making the grand tour of the world.

"Only," he said, "you must remember, dear, to be home to supper. Even if you find yourself at the coronation of a king, remember that it is your duty to be punctual at your meals. London, Paris, Pekin, or Kalamazoo are always ready to be seen, night or day, no matter what the time, but breakfast, dinner, and supper do not go on forever, and are served only at stated hours."

And so Mollie and Gyp and Whistlebinkie joined in the adventures of the Unwiseman Abroad, and, in point of fact, they started off that very afternoon, though what they saw I do not know, for I have not encountered them since. I only know that their journey was safely accomplished, and that they all got home that night without harm, for Mollie's papa told me so. He also told me, in confidence, that I might hope soon to hear some remarkable tales on the subject of their adventures; and if I do, I shall not fail to let you in turn hear what happened to "MOLLIE AND THE UNWISEMAN ABROAD."

[Ill.u.s.tration]