The Wallypug in London
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“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 assailants.
The Rhymester afterwards made a great boast that he had not taken any part in the mélée.
“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,” asserted the Rhymester.
This was really about the only remarkable incident which occurred during our holiday at Folkestone, which passed 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.
A. Fish, Esq., with the assistance 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 amusement, 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 fashion, 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 assistance 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 WINDOWI 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 funTo puzzle folks by telling them,That we’re both 2/1.’Twill be the truth, for man and wifeAre one, I beg to state,This fact’s as clear as 4/4,Or 2/6 make 8.They tell me, dear, you have no feet;But what is that to me?2 feet be 4/2 behindOn animals you see.That you have none, is 0 to me,Dear 1/4 your sake,No trifles such as these shall e’erMy true affections shake.I bought some penny tarts for you,But I am much distrestTo tell you by mistake I satOn 1/8 the rest.One-and-Nine was quite happy in finding that the paper had disappeared from the shop window when he passed by a little later, and declared that it must mean that the lady had accepted him and his poetry.
I think the funniest incident of all though, in connection with our visit to Folkestone, was when his Majesty and the others went into Carlo Maestrani’s for some ices.
They had never tasted any before, and were very much surprised to find them so cold. I shall never forget the expression on the Wallypug’s face when, having rather greedily taken a very large mouthful, he could not swallow it, or dispose of it in any way. A. Fish, Esq., declared that it gave him a violent toothache; while the Doctor-in-Law called for the waiter, and insisted upon him taking it away.
“It’s not properly cooked,” he declared angrily. “It’s cold.”
“Cook, sare, no, sare, it is not cook,” agreed the waiter.
“Very well, then, take it away and bring us some that is. Have it warmed up; do something with it. It’s disgraceful bringing us stuff like that.”
And no argument or persuasion would convince the little man that the ices were as they should be.
CHAPTER XII
THE DEPARTURE
We remained at Folkestone till the latter part of September, and then returned to London just about the time that the first number of The Wallypug’s Own made its appearance.
It caused quite a sensation in literary circles, and was mentioned by most of the papers; but it did not turn out a monetary success, and so the Doctor-in-Law declared that he must devise some other means of making money.
We had been once or twice to the circus, and I fancy that it must have been his intention to start something of the sort himself, for I caught him one day trying to teach his Majesty to walk the tight-rope; but as he had only tied the rope between two very light chairs the result was not very satisfactory, particularly to the poor Wallypug, who came to the ground with a terrific crash.
A. Fish, Esq., dressed as a clown, and certainly looked very funny; but his bad cold prevented him from speaking his jokes distinctly, and so the idea was given up.
In fact it was not till November that the Doctor-in-Law hit upon a plan which seemed to give him any great satisfaction. We had been talking a great deal about Guy Fawkes’ day and the fireworks at the Crystal Palace, which we intended going to see in the evening, and the Doctor-in-Law had been particularly curious to know all about the day and its customs. He did not say much about his plans, but I felt sure that he was up to some of his tricks, for I caught him several times whispering mysteriously to the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq., and I noticed that they were all particularly kind and respectful to his Majesty, as though they wished to keep him in a good humour.
On the morning of the fifth, when I came down to breakfast, I was greatly surprised to find that the whole party had gone out about an hour previous, after borrowing from Mrs. Putchy a kitchen chair, four broomsticks, and a long piece of clothes-line. Whatever were they up to?
I asked Mrs. Putchy if they had left any message, but no – they had said nothing as to where they were going, what they were going to do, or when they would be back; and the only thing that had struck Mrs. Putchy as being at all remarkable about their appearance, was the fact that the Rhymester had added little bows of coloured ribbon to his costume, and wore a tall pointed cap gaily decorated with streamers, and a deep white frill around his neck – the others were dressed as usual.
I felt sure that some mischief was brewing, and could not settle down to my work for thinking of them. About eleven o’clock I went out to see if I could find any traces of my guests. I had been walking about unsuccessfully for about an hour, when I heard some boys shouting, and turning to look in their direction, I beheld his Majesty calmly seated in a chair which, by means of long poles attached to it, was being carried along by the Rhymester and A. Fish, Esq.
They were followed by a crowd of people who were cheering lustily, and the Doctor-in-Law was rushing about collecting money in his hat, and entreating the people “not to forget the fifth of November,” and repeating some doggerel verse about:
“Guy Fawkes guy,Stick him up high;Stick him on a lamp-post,And there let him die,”while several little boys were dancing about in great excitement, and shouting, “Holler, boys! holler! here’s another guy.”
His Majesty evidently regarded it as a great compliment to himself, and complacently bowed right and left with considerable dignity. And I found out that the Doctor-in-Law had persuaded him into believing that this triumphal procession had been arranged solely in his Majesty’s honour.
I was naturally very vexed at the poor Wallypug being imposed upon in this manner, and spoke very plainly to the Doctor-in-Law about it on our way home, and I think the little man must have taken it very much to heart, for he seemed quite subdued, and actually himself suggested sharing the proceeds of the collection with the others.
We went to see the fireworks in the evening, and I don’t ever remember seeing the party in such excellent spirits as they were that night.
Mrs. Putchy had prepared a capital supper for us on our return, and I love to remember my friends as they appeared sitting around the supper table talking over the adventures and excitements of the day. I can see them now whenever I close my eyes – the dear old Wallypug at the head of the table, with One-and-Nine in attendance, and the others all talking at once about the jolly time they had had at the Skating Rink in the afternoon, when A. Fish, Esq., had vainly tried to get along with roller-skates fastened on to his tail.
I say I love to remember them thus, for it was the last occasion upon which we were all together. Early the next morning Mrs. Putchy came to my room, and in a very agitated voice said, “Please sir, I’m afraid that there is something wrong; I have knocked at his Majesty’s door and can get no answer, and the Doctor-in-Law’s room is empty too.”
I hurried down, and on the breakfast table I found a letter addressed to me, in which his Majesty, on behalf of the others, thanked me very heartily for my hospitality, and explained that State matters of the utmost importance had necessitated their immediate return to Why. How they went I have never been able to discover.
The outer door of my flat was found to be locked on the inside as usual, and the windows were all fastened; besides which, as they were some distance from the ground, the Royal party could scarcely have got out that way.
Altogether the whole affair was involved in a mystery which I have never been able to solve to this day. Of course I miss my strange, but withal lovable visitors, very much, and I value very highly the several little mementoes of their visit which remained behind. Amongst others is a cheque of the Doctor-in-Law’s for a considerable amount; which, however, I shall never be able to cash, as it is drawn upon the bank of, “Don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-it,” at Why.
General Mary Jane was inconsolable for some time after the departure of her soldier hero, but eventually married our milkman, a very steady and respectable man in the neighbourhood. Girlie and Boy and many other friends of the Wallypug greatly regretted that they were unable to say good-bye to his Majesty before he left; and often and often, as I sit alone in my study, I think about the simple-natured, good-hearted little fellow, and his remarkable followers, and wonder if I shall ever see them again. Who knows?
THE END1
He meant the tame ravens which are kept at the Tower.