The Wallypug in London Part 14

The poor dear Wallypug amiably toiled backward and forward between the kitchen and dining-room with great piles of plates and other heavy articles, and A. Fish, Esq., in his eagerness to help, was continually treading on his own tail, upsetting himself and the various dishes entrusted to his charge.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A. FISH, ESQ., UPSET]

At last, however, the supper was set, and the merriest evening you can possibly imagine was spent by the guests. His Majesty was in capital spirits, and after supper suggested a little dancing, which suggestion was hailed with delight by the others, and, having moved some of the furniture out of the drawing-room and pushed the rest away into corners, the Wallypug led off with her Grace the d.u.c.h.ess of Mortlake, and quite distinguished himself in "Sir Roger de Coverley." Afterwards there was a little singing and music, several of the guests contributing to the evening's entertainment. Amongst other items was a song by A. Fish, Esq., rendered as well as his bad cold would permit, of which the first lines ran:

I'b siddig here ad lookig at the bood, love, Ad thinkig ov the habby days of old, Wed you ad I had each a wooded spood, love, To eat our porridge wed we had a cold.

Altogether the evening was such a success that her Grace declared that it should not be her fault if surprise parties were not the fas.h.i.+on in Society during the coming winter.

CHAPTER XI

HIS MAJESTY AT THE SEASIDE

I sent Mrs. Putchy and General Mary Jane down to the house, which I had engaged on the "Lees" at Folkestone, the day before we were to go, in order to see that everything was ready for us.

"The only thing that is wrong is the kitchen chimney, and that smokes, sir," said Mrs. Putchy, in answer to my inquiry on the night of our arrival. "I think that we had better have the sweep in the morning, sir."

"Very well, Mrs. Putchy, I'm sure you know best," I replied, and thought no more of the matter.

Early in the morning, however, I was awakened by screams and cries proceeding from the lower part of the house.

"Help! help! Burglars! Fire and police! Thieves!" screamed a voice, and hastily dressing myself, I rushed out into the pa.s.sage, and was confronted by the Rhymester, who had evidently just jumped out of bed, and who, though it was broad daylight, bore a lighted candle in one hand, and a pair of fire tongs in the other.

His teeth were chattering with fright, and his knees were knocking together from the same cause.

"What's the matter," I asked in alarm.

"Oh! oh! there are burglars in the house," he cried excitedly, "and the others have gone down to them; I'm sure they'll be killed--I told them not to go, but they would. Let's go and hide under a bed somewhere. Oh! oh, what will become of us?"

"Don't be such a coward," I cried, hurrying down stairs, while the poor little Rhymester, afraid to be left alone upstairs, tremblingly followed.

Sure enough there was a sound of struggling going on, and voices raised in loud dispute.

"Oh, that story won't do for me," I heard the Doctor-in-Law exclaim.

"But I tell yez, sor," chimed in another strange voice, "I waz only going to----"

"Never mind what you were going to do, give up the sack," said the Doctor-in-Law.

Then there were sounds of struggling, and amidst the confusion a voice saying:

"Hold him down! Sit on him! That's right! Now for the sack."

And, bursting the door open, a curious sight met my eyes. A poor sweep lay flat upon the floor, with the Wallypug sitting upon him, and One-and-Nine keeping guard; while the Doctor-in-Law and A. Fish, Esq., examined his bag of soot in the corner. The poor little Rhymester summoned up sufficient courage to peep in at the doorway, and stood there making a piteous picture, with his white face and trembling limbs.

"Whatever is the matter," I inquired as soon as I entered.

"We've caught him!" exclaimed his Majesty, complacently wriggling his toes about.

"But what's he been doing," I asked.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WE'VE CAUGHT HIM!"]

"Av ye plaze, sor," groaned the man, panting beneath the Wallypug's weight, "I have been doing nothing at all, at all. I waz just a-finis.h.i.+n' me warrak of swapin' the chimneys, wen one ov the ould gintleman came up an' poked me in the nose with a sthick, and the other ould gintleman knocked me over and sthole me bag, while the soger hild me down till the other gintleman sat on me--it's among a lot of murtherin' thaves I've got entoirely, savin' yer presince, sor."

"The man is a burglar," declared the Doctor-in-Law emphatically. "I happened to hear a very suspicious noise down here, and calling to the others, rushed down just in time to catch this man making off with a bag of things. I think he was trying to escape up the chimney, for his head was half-way up when we entered, and this bag, which evidently contains plunder of some kind, is covered with soot too."

"Why, the man is a sweep, and was sweeping the chimney," I cried, pointing to his brushes and sticks; and after a lot of explanations the man was told to get up and his Majesty, followed by the others, retired to his bedroom, evidently greatly disappointed that it was not a real burglar that they had been combating.

The sweep, who was a very good-natured Irishman, took it in very good part, and the present of half-a-crown sent him away quite reconciled to his a.s.sailants.

The Rhymester afterwards made a great boast that he had not taken any part in the melee.

"Of course I knew all along that he wasn't a burglar," he declared, "and that's the reason why I wouldn't interfere."

"You managed to do a good deal of screaming though, I noticed,"

remarked the Doctor-in-Law grumpily.

"Ah! that was only for fun," a.s.serted the Rhymester.

This was really about the only remarkable incident which occurred during our holiday at Folkestone, which pa.s.sed very pleasantly and very quietly. We went for a sea bathe nearly every day, and his Majesty would insist upon wearing his crown in the water on every occasion.

"No one will know that I am a king if I don't," he declared; and I am bound to admit that his Majesty did not look very regal in his bathing costume, particularly when he was dripping with water and his long straight hair hung half over his face, and even when he wore his crown he was continually catching bits of seaweed in it, which gave him a singularly untidy appearance for a king.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HIS MAJESTY DID NOT LOOK VERY REGAL]

A. Fish, Esq., with the a.s.sistance of a lifebuoy, nearly learned to swim while we were down there; but the Doctor-in-Law thought that hiring bathing machines was a foolish waste of money, and contented himself with taking off his shoes and stockings and paddling, which he could do without having to pay. One day, however, he was knocked completely over by an incoming wave, and got wet to the skin.

We could never persuade the Rhymester either, to go out further than just to his knees; but I rather fancy that that was because he was afraid of wetting his bathing costume, of which he was particularly proud, and which was decorated with smart little bows of ribbon wherever they could be conveniently put.

Fear may have had something to do with it though, for I noticed that he always clung very tightly to the rope, and never by any chance went beyond its length.

The switchback railway was a source of infinite amus.e.m.e.nt, and a great deal of time was spent on it. Boating was not much indulged in, as it made one or two of the party, particularly A. Fish, Esq., very ill; but we all enjoyed the beautiful drives in the neighbourhood. There was an excellent Punch and Judy show in the town too, which so fascinated his Majesty that we could scarcely tear him away whenever he joined the admiring crowd which daily surrounded it.

The fickle One-and-Nine, while we were here, fell in love with a wax figure exhibited in a hair-dresser's window in Sandgate Road. It represented a beautiful lady with her hair dressed in the latest fas.h.i.+on, and the wooden soldier was greatly infatuated. He spent hours gazing through the window, watching the lady slowly revolve by clockwork; and he became frightfully jealous of the hair-dresser, whom he caught one morning rearranging the drapery around the lady's shoulders.

Eventually, with the a.s.sistance of the Rhymester, he composed the following piece of poetry--which he stuck, by means of six gelatine sweets, on to the hair-dresser's window with the writing inside, in order that the lady might see it.

TO THE BEAUTIFUL LADY IN THE HAIRDRESSER'S WINDOW.

I love you, oh! I love you, And I beg you to be mine; I'm a gallant wooden soldier, And my name is 1/9.

If you will only marry me, 'Twill be the greatest fun To puzzle folks by telling them, That we're both 2/1.