Adventures in Wallypug-Land

“But he’s on duty, ma’am,” expostulated the station-master.

“I don’t care anything about that; you come in at once, Bill,” shouted the woman, and the porter meekly left the barrier and disappeared within the signal-box.

Of course we all rushed through the gate at once, and the station-master catching sight of Kis-Smee, who had meanwhile slipped his chain, fled up the platform in dismay.

Kis-Smee, evidently thinking him fair game, started off in pursuit, and it was not till the station-master had bolted into his office and locked the door that we could get him to come back to our call.

So soon as we got into the street we met the Turtle and the Pelican, walking arm-in-arm, and each smoking a cigarette.

“Hullo, Wallypug!” exclaimed the Pelican. “Why, we thought you were at Wei-hai-wei.”

“Wer-har-wei, you mean,” laughed his Majesty.

“It’s all the same,” announced the Pelican. “Well, how have you been getting on?”

His Majesty explained as briefly as possible the adventures we had passed through, and then inquired how affairs were progressing at Why.

“Oh, not very well, I’m afraid,” said the Pelican. “You see, there has been no one to take the lead since you’ve been away. We tried a Republican form of government, and elected Oom-Hi as president, but he became so extravagant – wanted a new top-hat every day, and insisted on a gilded coach to ride in; and at last we caught him tampering with the public funds, so we had to dismiss him. Have you heard about Broncho?”

“No,” said his Majesty.

“Well, it didn’t answer as a cough mixture, so Oom-Hi turned it into a patent meat extract, and called it Vimbril, and it killed ever so many people.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the Wallypug, anxiously. “Any one I know?”

“Madame and a few other folk,” was the reply; “and the Doctor-in-Law is not expected to recover.”

“Good gracious! Why, we thought them at the other end of the world. However did they get back to Why again?”

“Oh, they sent us a cablegram when they got to China, and we let down an enormously long rope and pulled them up the shute again, you know. But it was a very long journey, and they had nothing to eat on the way. So as soon as we hauled them up we gave them each a large dose of Vimbril. Madame expired at once,” he added, with a sob.

The tears were streaming down the Turtle’s nose as he sympathetically joined in the Pelican’s weeping.

“What about the Doctor-in-Law?” inquired his Majesty, solicitously.

“Oh, he has a very strong constitution, you know, and he may pull through. We’ve got him back at the palace in his old quarters.”

“Poor fellow! Poor fellow!” said the Wallypug, sympathetically. “Let’s go and see what we can do for him.”

I thought this very kind of his Majesty, considering all he had suffered through the Doctor-in-Law’s ingratitude; but the good-hearted little fellow was full of sympathy, and hurried towards the palace with all speed.

CHAPTER XIII

A NEW STATE OF AFFAIRS

“Oh my! Good gracious me!” exclaimed a voice as we approached the entrance to the palace and looking up we beheld the Cockatoo perched on a window-sill. “Just look at these creatures. What a color. Why, why,” she exclaimed, peering at us closely, “I’m bothered if it isn’t the Wallypug and the Hatless Man, and the great Mr. A. Fish, Esq. Where have you been? What did you come back for? What do you want?” she screamed.

“It’s dud of your busidess,” replied A. Fish, Esq., shortly.

“Oh! isn’t it,” said the Cockatoo furiously. “I’ll soon show you whether it’s none of my business or not. To begin with, the Wallypug and the headless traitor” —

“Do you mean me?” I interrupted, “because I am not headless yet, you know.”

“Headless, or hatless, it’s all the same,” said the Cockatoo, “you might as well run about without your head for all the good it is to you,” she added insolently. “Well you two are escaped prisoners,” she ran on, “and I shall see that you are locked up again, so there.”

“But it was all a mistake,” said His Majesty mildly.

“What was?” yelled the bird.

“What I said about a ’horse a horse, my kingdom for a horse!’ you know,” said the Wallypug.

“Why don’t you say what you mean then?” cried the Cockatoo. “Well, I shall have you locked up anyhow. Here, Crocodile,” she shouted, “just come and arrest these creatures will you?”

“Shan’t!” replied a voice from within; “who are you ordering about. If you want them arrested, do it yourself. I’m not going to do as you tell me, so there! besides, all the prisoners have been set free that Madame sentenced, you know that well enough?”

“Yah! Down with him, down with Crocodiles; down with pale-blue Wallypugs and hatless men; down with fishes of all sorts. Down with everybody and everything; down with – .”

We did not stop to hear any more of her ravings, but passed through and up into the Doctor-in-Law’s old rooms.

We found him looking very weak and ill, but he recognized us all, and held out his hand to the Wallypug, who told him encouragingly that he would soon be well again.

“Yes, ad thed I’ll teach you elocutiod for dothig,” promised A. Fish, Esq.

The Doctor-in-Law smiled faintly, and whispered that what was keeping him back most was the thought of the heavy doctor’s bill which he would have to pay when he got better.

The good-natured little Wallypug made him very happy by promising to pay this amount for him, and we left the little man looking very much brighter than when we entered.

The rest of the morning was spent in his Majesty’s private apartments, discussing all sorts of plans for the future, for, as the Wallypug very properly remarked, now that the Mother-in-Law had gone he should have a freer hand in the administration of affairs.

A. Fish, Esq., busied himself in preparing an elaborate lecture, which he said he would deliver in public on the morrow, on the “Unreasonableness of Misunderstandability,” and which would, he hoped, clearly explain away the mistake which had been made, in accusing his Majesty of treason, in connection with his unfortunate recitation of “A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!”

While we were thus busily engaged there came an impatient tap-tap-tapping at the door, and on opening it we beheld the Crow looking more disreputably untidy than ever. He carried a large bundle of papers and a quill pen. “Ahem!” he began importantly, “I call on behalf of the Daily Whyer a new paper which I have just established, and which I am happy to say has already an enormous circulation in Why. It is very cheap (four copies for a penny), and contains an enormous amount of totally unreliable information; besides which there is a page devoted to domestic matters, highly interesting to ladies, and includes receipts for artistically furnishing your house with old tea chests and soap boxes, painted with enamel and draped with art muslin; there are also several poems weekly on the subject of ‘Baby’s Little Socks,’ which are immensely popular with some people, here is one of them,” he cried, turning to the back page of his paper, a copy of which he had with him.

“Oh! the baby’s little socks,Darling baby’s little socks;When the kettle’s softly steaming,When the firelight’s glow is gleaming,And I’m sitting idly dreaming,Whisper gently, ‘baby’s socks.’“Oh the darling little socks;Baby’s baby’s little socks;Toys that baby fingers scatter,Little feet that pitter-patter,Tittle tongues – but there – no matter,Let’s get back to baby’s socks.”

“There,” he concluded triumphantly, “what do you think of that?”

“Well, I don’t wish to be rude,” I remarked, “but I certainly think it’s the greatest rubbish I’ve ever heard in all my life.”

“Rubbish!” he exclaimed, “Why all the ladies who read the Daily Whyer think it beautiful. I have to get the same gentleman to write verses like that nearly every day.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” I replied, “that a man writes such twaddle as that.”

“Oh! you’re jealous, that’s what’s the matter with you. A man write them? of course he does.”

“And do you pay him for these precious contributions,” I exclaimed in surprise.

“I promise to pay him ever so much a year,” said the Crow, “but – er – ahem – I have a very bad memory. I have several contributors whom I pay on the same system, it’s a very cheap way,” he sniffled. “I’ve copied it from a contemporary.”

“Well, we’re very busy just dow,” said A. Fish, Esq., “would you bind telling us your busidess ad goig, because we wandt to ged to work agaid.”

“Oh! to tell you the truth,” said the Crow, “I wanted to know if the Wallypug would let me print an interview with him in to-morrow’s paper. You have just returned from Wer-har-wei, I believe, haven’t you; I was sitting on the signal post at the station just now and saw you arrive. I think my readers would be very interested in hearing your impressions of the country.”

I took his Majesty aside and pointed out to him that very possibly an interview with him appearing in the paper would have a good effect on his people, and he could use it as a means of advertising the reforms he intended making in the government of the land; and his Majesty agreeing with me on the point, he seated himself comfortably in his own particular chair, and the Crow, perching on the back of another, the interview began.

“Let’s see,” said the Crow, making a great spluttering with his pen, which was cross-nibbed and broken. “When were you born?”

“Well, really,” said his Majesty, “I, er – was so young at the time that I scarcely remember.”

“Oh, well, I’ll put it down as Y. D. 987; that will do as well as any other date.”

“Why Y. D.?” I inquired, curiously.

“Year of disgrace,” was the prompt reply. “Bless me! this must be a Post Office pen,” he went on, as the pen scattered the ink about in all directions. “They are always bad, you know.” Then, having asked the Wallypug no end of questions, not only about our journey, but on all sorts of private matters also, the wretched-looking bird gathered up his papers, which were covered with unintelligible blots and scratches and scattered in all parts of the room, and, tucking them under his wing, departed, to have the matter set up in print.

CHAPTER XIV

“GOOD FOR THE COMPLEXION.”

The Crow had scarcely left the room when there was another knock, and without waiting for a reply the Cockatoo burst into the room in a fine fluster. She was followed by the Kangaroo and Oom Hi.

“Look at them! Look at them!” she blurted out, “did you ever see such objects in all your life. What a color!”

“Hm! Eggshell blue,” said the Kangaroo, examining the Wallypug critically. “Very extraordinary tint. Never seen a face that shade before.”

“The other one is worse,” declared the Cockatoo, pointing at me derisively. “I always knew he was something disreputable. I believe,” she added, sinking her voice into a hoarse whisper, “I believe he has let himself out as an advertisement for Stephen’s Blue-black Ink, or Ricket’s Paris Blue. What depravity. Down with him! Duck him in the pond! Scrub him with sandpaper! Boil him!” and so she went on.

“What’s all this bother about?” I exclaimed. “Don’t you see that his Majesty is engaged. If you don’t immediately go about your business I will have you put out of the room.”

“Oh! will you indeed,” exclaimed the Cockatoo excitedly, “I should like to see you attempt it. It strikes me that you are the one that will be put out. We can stand a good deal down here, but a hatless object with a blue face. Ough!”

“Here, come and do your duty,” she shouted, going to the door, and the two Crocodiles entered and caught hold of me roughly by the collar. “Bring them out into the courtyard,” shouted the infuriated bird, and before I could protest I was bundled unceremoniously out of the house by the Crocodiles, the Kangaroo and Oom Hi following with the Wallypug.

“Now then,” said the Cockatoo, stopping before a large tub of water which stood on the ground, “see what soap and water will do.”

The Kangaroo rummaged about and discovered a small hard piece of yellow soap, and Oom Hi brought forth a good sized sponge, and together they gave the poor little Wallypug such a scrubbing as I should think he had never had before in all his life.

“Ough! ough!” spluttered his Majesty. “You’re putting it all in my eyes. Oh, ach! do-o-on’t! Stop! I say, do leave off. Ough!”

The poor little fellow was nearly choked.

Oom Hi sponged the soap away and the Cockatoo stared critically at the poor Wallypug, who stood there with the water streaming from his face and the tips of his fingers.

“Hasn’t done the slightest good,” she declared; “better scrape him with a putty knife, I think.”

“Stop a minute!” said the Kangaroo, “I have it,” and he went up and whispered something in Oom Hi’s ear.

“Capital! capital! go and fetch a bottle,” cried Oom Hi, and the Kangaroo rushed off, returning a minute later with a large bottle marked Vimbril.

“Oh! don’t! don’t!” cried the poor Wallypug. “I’m not going to take any of that stuff. It killed the lady who called herself my Sister-in-Law you know, and it made the Doctor-in-Law ill. Take it away.”

“Of course you are not going to take any, Wallypug,” said Oom Hi soothingly, “but there will be no harm in trying the effect upon your complexion. It might make you the proper color again you know, and in that case I could alter the name and call it ‘Wallypug’s Blush,’ and advertise it well; no doubt it would be a great success. Put some on the sponge,” he continued, holding it out to the Kangaroo, who poured out some of the nasty looking stuff.

“No! no! don’t. Ough!” shuddered his Majesty, but despite his protests his face was well rubbed with the fluid.

“Worse than ever, he’s light brown now,” said the Cockatoo.

“Oh! wipe it off! wipe it off,” implored the Wallypug.

“No!” said Oom Hi, who seemed very greatly disappointed at the non-success of his experiment, “let it dry on.”

“We had better put him in the stocks,” he declared, “to prevent him from rubbing it off.” So the poor little Wallypug was led off to the stocks and securely fastened in, with his hands spread out to dry, and with strict injunctions not to move till he was told.

The last view that I had of his Majesty was of the poor little fellow, utterly worn out with his exertions, meekly sitting in the stocks and falling into an uneasy slumber, from which, however, he was frequently awakened by the bees and flies, which, attracted by the sticky stuff on his face and hands, flocked around him as though he were a pot of jam.

“We might keep this as a curiosity,” said the Cockatoo, turning her attention to me next. “Put in a cage with a large label, ‘Blue-faced and hatless man, Dangerous!’ he ought to be an attraction to our menagerie. I think that’s what we’ll do with him,” and despite my struggles and protests I was ignominiously marched off by the Crocodiles, who continued to make rude and personal remarks about my appearance all the way to the dungeon, where it appeared I was to spend my time till a cage could be prepared for me.

Of course I was terribly indignant at my treatment, but was absolutely powerless to prevent it And the only thing that I could do when the Crocodiles had left me alone, after a few parting jeers, was to consider the best way of effecting my escape.

I was pondering seriously upon this question, when suddenly I remembered the Gombobble with which the little blue people had presented me when I left Wer-har-wei. Taking it from my pocket I idly wondered if it were good to eat or not. It felt soft and looked something like a huge blue orange or a melon; getting out my penknife I plunged it in and cut the fruit open. Inside was a white juicy pulp which looked very tempting, so trusting to its being good to eat I took a bite.

It was delicious!

I took another bite, and then, happening to look at my hands, I discovered to my great delight that they were regaining their proper color.

“Come, this is better,” I cried, tackling a third piece; and then suddenly remembering the poor Wallypug, I carefully cut the Gombobble in half and put part of it aside for his Majesty, and was just about to eat another little piece myself, when, happening to look up, I caught sight of Mr. Nobody from Nowhere, squeezing through the bars of my dungeon window.

He was as smiling and happy as ever, and made me an elaborate bow with an elegant flourish, and then looked so very knowing that I felt sure that he had something important to communicate.

CHAPTER XV

“WALLYPUG’S BLUSH LIMITED.”

“How do you do?” I began.

The little fellow bowed and smiled and brought forth a scrap of paper and a pencil.

On the paper he wrote, “Quite well thanks, how are you?” and added the words, “Can I be of any service to you?”

I pondered a moment, and then recollected that he would be a capital medium of communication between the Wallypug and myself.

“Do you know where the stocks are?” I inquired.

Mr. Nobody nodded vigorously.

“His Majesty the Wallypug is there,” I ventured.

Mr. Nobody nodded again very energetically, and I could see that he knew all about it. Moreover he wrote on his paper, “Poor Wallypug!” and looked most sympathetic.

“Would you like to help him?” I inquired.

The little man nodded again, and seemed quite delighted at the prospect.

Handing him the half of the Gombobble which I had reserved for his Majesty, I said, “Take this to the Wallypug immediately and, if he is quite alone, tell him to eat it all, and on no account to tell any one how he became possessed of it.”

Mr. Nobody nodded to show that he understood, and, taking the piece of Gombobble, he squeezed through the bars of my cell, and was soon running off in the direction of the stocks.

I awaited his return with some anxiety, and was delighted to see when he did come back, that his face was beaming with delight.

“His Majesty has regained his complexion, and is very grateful to you,” he wrote hurriedly, clapping his hands and capering about.

“Now go and tell Oom Hi and the Kangaroo, and if they come to the conclusion that his Majesty’s complexion has been restored through using the stuff they call ‘Wallypug’s Blush,’ don’t say anything to the contrary; it will put them into a good temper and perhaps make them kinder to his Majesty.”

Mr. Nobody seemed quite to understand and hurried off again. He did not come back, but about half an hour afterwards there was a noise at the door of my cell, and after a great deal of fumbling at the lock, Oom Hi and the Kangaroo entered.

Oom Hi carried a basin and the Kangaroo a bottle of Vimbril, or Wallypug’s Blush, as it was now called.

They looked very amiable, and after some kind remarks about the weather Oom Hi cleared his throat and said in a sort of apologetic voice:

“Er, we didn’t mean to be too severe, you know, and what we have done has been all for the best. You will be pleased to hear that my invaluable preparation, ‘Wallypug’s Blush,’ has proved perfectly satisfactory, and his Majesty the Wallypug is a living testimony to its worth. His beautiful complexion has entirely returned, and I have no doubt if we could persuade you to use it too it would be equally successful in your case. You will try it, won’t you?” he pleaded earnestly.

“Of course if my complexion, such as it is, is restored, I shall be released from here?” I hazarded.

“Oh! certainly,” said both animals at once, and so after surreptitiously devouring the remainder of the Gombobble, I permitted the creatures to smear my face over with their precious rubbish on the distinct understanding that I should be allowed to have a good wash afterwards.

The Gombobble acted perfectly, and the animals were delighted when they saw the result, as they of course put it down to the effect of their “Wallypug’s Blush.”

“Go and fetch the Cockatoo,” said Oom Hi, “she shall judge for herself.”

So the Kangaroo went off to fetch her.

“Wonderful preparation, isn’t it?” said Oom Hi, gazing affectionately at his bottle of “Wallypug’s Blush.”

“Very!” I remarked.

“I knew it must be good for something or another,” he went on, “but of course we could not tell exactly what till we had tried. It very nearly cured a cold once, you know, when I called it Broncho, though I am bound to admit that it was not exactly a success as Vimbril. Do you think ‘Wallypug’s Blush’ a good title,” he asked anxiously.

“It’s a very striking one,” I admitted.

“I shall advertise it well in the Daily Whyer, you know, and – Oh! here comes the Cockatoo,” he added, as that bird came bustling into the cell.

“Now then, what’s this I hear?” she began, giving me a keen glance; “‘Wallypug’s Blush’ restored your complexion. Why so it has, though I cannot say much for it even now. However, since you have no longer a blue face you are scarcely likely to be valuable as a curiosity, so you had better get about your business,” and, flinging open the door, the Cockatoo motioned me out with her crutched stick.

You may be sure I was not long in availing myself of my liberty and hurrying to the spot where I had last seen his Majesty.

The stocks were empty, but a little further off I found A. Fish, Esq., who seemed delighted to see me.

“Well I dever!” he exclaimed; “I heard you were going to be exhibited as a freak. What stories people do tell, to be sure.”

I briefly explained what had happened and inquired if he knew where the Wallypug was.

“Oh yes, he’s gode back to the Palace,” said A. Fish, Esq. “He’s id a rare way aboudt you.”

So I thought it best, in order to relieve his Majesty’s anxiety, to seek him there.

It was now getting dusk, and seeing a light in his Majesty’s private apartments, I went up and knocked at the door.

“Come in!” cried a voice which I had no difficulty in recognizing, and on opening the door I found the good little man pacing to and fro in a state of great agitation.

“Oh! it’s you,” he exclaimed in a relieved voice, and came forward to welcome me eagerly. “I was just wondering how on earth I could get you out of the Cockatoo’s clutches; she’s a wretched creature, isn’t she?”

“Well she is a trial, certainly,” I agreed, “and I think if I were you I should adopt some very strong measures for preventing her from interfering as she does.”

“Hm! yes,” said his Majesty, “let’s go and hear what the Doctor-in-Law has to say about it; he may be able to advise us as to the best way of putting her down, and though he will probably charge pretty stiffly for it, his advice is worth having sometimes.”

So we went together to the Doctor-in-Law’s room.

We were surprised to hear several voices talking excitedly within, and when in reply to a rather impatient “Come in!” we opened the door, we were astonished to see the Doctor-in-Law in his dressing-gown and slippers, in busy consultation with Oom Hi, the Kangaroo, and the Cockatoo.

“I’ve been greatly interested in hearing of the success of ‘Wallypug’s Blush,’” said the little man, “and am just helping Oom Hi (ahem, for a consideration) to draw up a prospectus for turning it into a Limited Company. In consideration of the payment to me of several thousands of pounds, I am about to become a director, and am to be paid several thousands more for persuading the Cockatoo to join the board too.”

“But,” I objected, “what do you claim that ‘Wallypug’s Blush’ does?”

“Oh, it restores people with blue complexions to their natural color, you know.”

“But surely there will be a very limited sale,” I said; “there cannot be very many people with blue faces, you know.”

“Oh, of course, you must try and spoil everything with your absurd objections,” said the Cockatoo crossly.

“Yes, I really don’t see that your contention has much weight,” said the Doctor-in-Law. “Provided it is only advertised enough, the public will buy any rubbish, whether it does what it professes to do or not. And we shall simply call it ‘Wallypug’s Blush for the complexion,’ you know; besides, even if it doesn’t answer, we can turn it into something else, Boot Polish or Hair Wash, you know.”

And so seeing them so busily and enthusiastically engaged in the business of drawing up the prospectus, we said good-night and retired to our rooms.