Читать книгу The Missing Prince - Farrow George Edward - Страница 3

GROWING shorter and shorter as he hurried along, Boy noticed that the Moon had gone back to its usual place in the sky, and that Pierrot was nowhere to be seen.

“I suppose he is lying down asleep on the cushions,” he thought, as he let himself down from one step to another; for you see he had by this time become so small that the steps seemed like huge rocks to him.

When he at last reached the bottom one, he was greatly disappointed to find that there was nobody in sight. From behind a piece of rock, however, half buried in the sand, came the sound of laughter. “Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho!” shouted somebody, and when Boy hurried up to where the sounds proceeded from a curious sight met his eyes.

A Grig was pirouetting about on the tip of its tail, giggling and laughing in an insane fashion, whilst a solemn-looking Wooden Soldier was standing at “attention” and looking straight in front of him, not taking the slightest notice of the Grig or anything else.

Presently the Grig caught sight of Boy. “Hee, hee, hee!” he snickered, “here comes a boy! What a jolly lark!” and he capered about more madly than before.

The Wooden Soldier, who had a label round his neck with “One-and-Nine” written on it, turned stiffly around, so that he faced Boy, and said in a deep voice, —

“I wote for you at the bottom of the step for some time, but was obligated to move to a more shelterous situation, as I am suffering from a stiff neck.”

“You wote for me!” exclaimed Boy, “whatever do you mean?”

“Wote, past participle of the verb to wait. Wait, wite, wote, you know,” answered the Soldier.

“Hee, hee, hee! Isn’t he a cure?” laughed the Grig, winking at Boy, and twirling about at such a rate that it made Boy quite giddy to look at him.

“He’s been crossed in love, and it’s touched his brain – ha, ha, ha! – he fancies that he has invented a new system of Grammar. What a lark! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho!” and he rolled about in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“Well, of all the extraordinary individuals that I have ever met,” thought Boy, “these two are certainly the most remarkable! I wonder which of them is to show me the way to Sand Castle. I had better ask.”

“Mr. Officer,” he began, for he thought that would be a polite way of addressing the Soldier.

“His name’s One-and-Nine,” interrupted the Grig “What a name! Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee!”

“The vulgarocity of this individual is unbearacious,” exclaimed One-and-Nine angrily. “Let us leave him.”

“Oh! I wish to be directed to Sand Castle,” said Boy. “Can you please show me the way?”

“That is the purposeness of my being here,” replied One-and-Nine. “Step this way, please,” he said, as he walked stiffly forward.

The Grig did not seem to mind them going in the least, and kept on dancing about and shrieking with laughter.

“Good-bye, old Wooden Head!” he shouted. “You are as good as a pantomime any day, you are! Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee!” and the sound of his laughter grew fainter and fainter as they walked quickly away from him.

“That Grig will come to a lamentuous end unless he reformationises,” remarked One-and-Nine severely.

“He seems to be in very high spirits about something,” said Boy.

“Yes, that’s the worst of these Grigs,” replied One-and-Nine, “they never seem to considerise the unenjoyability of jollyosity; they seem to think that life is all jubilaceous, whereas it is rather more otherwise than otherwise.”

“Oh dear! oh dear! I do wish this man would talk in a way that I could understand,” thought Boy. “Have we very far to go?” he asked at length, as they walked along in the moonlight.

“About half as far again as half,” answered One-and-Nine absently. “I beg your pardon, I mean we shall be there with considerable soonness. You must excuse me being a little upset; I have recently suffered the same affliction as yourself.”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy.

“I’ve been reduced,” answered One-and-Nine sorrowfully. “You’ve been reduced too,” he said, “but only in size. I’ve come down in price, which is far more serious. I was once Two-and-Three,” he added regretfully.

“Oh! then you are the other chap that Pierrot sang about,” said Boy, “and the Dolly-girl jilted you, didn’t she, and – ”

“That’s not a matter of the slightest consequentially,” interrupted One-and-Nine; “she was a person of frivolaceous character, and though I am bound to admit that at one time I did devotionise her with considerable muchness, I have since found out that she was totally unworthy of my admirosity. Tin Soldier indeed!” he went on contemptuously, evidently referring to his rival, “why, he couldn’t stand fire at all; he would melt! I don’t deny that he looks very well on parade, but he would be no good in action. However, she has chosen to marry him and she must abide by the consequences. If people will marry tin, they must be prepared to find that it melts? he added sententiously.

“Oh! there’s Sand Castle, I suppose!” cried Boy, as some lights appeared in the distance.

“Yes,” replied One-and-Nine, “here we are!”

Boy could see when they reached the gates that it was the very Castle which he had so much admired in the morning. “And I am just the right size to go in, just as I wished to do,” he thought gleefully.

A regiment of toy soldiers were drawn up before the gate and saluted as Boy and One-and-Nine entered.

Mr. and Mrs. Waxxe-Doll stood at the entrance to welcome their guests. Mrs. Waxxe-Doll was a very grand-looking personage in most fashionable attire, whilst her husband was not a wax doll at all, but a wooden and cardboard person with very thin, straight legs, and a large body and head which wobbled about when he was touched.

“So pleased to see you,” said Mrs. Waxxe-Doll in a languid voice, shaking hands with Boy, and holding her hand nearly on a level with her head in doing so. “My husband,” she said, introducing Boy, and then walking away.

“How do you do, sir?” said Boy, holding out his hand politely.

“What’s that to do with you?” exclaimed Mr. Wraxxe-Doll fiercely. “People have been asking me that silly question all the evening. Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than stand here and answer foolish conundrums like that? I wonder you don’t say it’s a fine evening and have done with it! All the other folks have been saying that too, one after the other, like a lot of brainless lunatics. ‘How do you do? It’s a fine evening!’ Bah! If you haven’t anything better to talk about than that, you had better have stopped away!” And Mr. Waxxe-Doll glared at Boy till he felt quite alarmed.

“Don’t mind him,” said One-and-Nine, “it’s his way – come along!” and he led the way into the Dancing Hall where the festivities were in full swing. All kinds of toys were represented, and it was indeed, as Pierrot had said it would be, a very mixed gathering.

The guests were principally dolls dressed in the most varied of costumes, from silks, brocades and satins, to black paint; some fastidious-looking young gentlemen with fair curled hair, and dressed in pale blue knitted suits, were leaning against the wall in affected attitudes, and a whole group of Dutch dolls were gathered around a military-looking person in a cocked hat lolling luxuriously on an ottoman at one end of the room. There was a Toy Band at the other end, which looked very imposing, but which Boy found out was only for show, the Musicians only pretending to perform, while the music was really supplied by a musical box hidden away at the back. A number of dolls were dancing a polka when Boy and One-and-Nine entered, so they sat down on a rout-seat near the door and watched them.

A supercilious-looking doll in evening dress sat next to Boy, fanning herself fussily.

“Very mixed lot of people here,” she began, without the slightest introduction. “I should not have come if I had known what to expect. Are you a friend of Mr. Waxxe-Doll’s?” she asked.

“No, I’ve never met him before,” replied Boy.

“Ah! vulgar person, very – plenty of money, though – likes to be thought grand. Of course he isn’t a Waxxe-Doll at all. His wife was a Waxxe and he took her name – it looks very well joined to his with a hyphen, you know. Mrs. Waxxe-Doll is of French descent, and gives herself airs in consequence. They’ve hired this Castle for the season at enormous expense, but bless you, they are nobodies! See that vulgar-looking old lady in the corner – with a pipe in her mouth – they call her Ancient Aunt Sarah; but she’s nothing of the sort. Everybody knows her; she’s just ‘Old Aunt Sally, three-shies-a-penny,’ so it’s no use their trying to disguise the fact. Look at those two,” she went on, as two dolls in very straight narrow dresses danced past, “what guys! But there, what can you expect? They came out of the ark, I believe.”

And Boy could see that they really did look like the figures out of Noah’s Ark.

The music stopped just then, and most of the dolls went out into the grounds to get cool; and Boy, who did not at all care for the spiteful little person who had been letting him into all the Waxxe-Doll’s family secrets, thought that he would follow their example.

One-and-Nine had wandered off by himself, so Boy had no one to talk to.

He found the grounds brilliantly illuminated with little wax vestas stuck in the sand, and the toy trees and rustic bridges looked quite pretty in the light. Three or four Gentlemen dolls were playing a kind of game by the pond, and asked Boy to join them. He found that it was called “Stock Brokers,” and he soon learned how to play it.

Each had a large sheet of blue paper which was called a “Stock,” and which when torn in half became a “Share.” These pieces of paper were thrown into the air, and the game consisted in blowing under these pieces of paper, or “raising the wind,” as it was called, in order to keep them floating: the one who kept his “Share” or “Stock” from falling longest won the game. Boy quite enjoyed playing it until one of his “Shares” fell to the ground, and then he was “broke,” as they called it, and so he lost the game.

A crowd of dolls hurrying back to the Castle next attracted his attention, and, following them inside, he heard it announced that Sergeant One-and-Nine was about to recite. Boy was very glad to hear this, and managed to push forward to where One-and-Nine was standing.

The Master of Ceremonies was bustling about trying to find every one a seat; and at last, when the room was quite quiet, One-and-Nine began the following poem, which had been composed by himself: —

THE MUS RIDICULOUS AND THE FELIS DOMESTICA

All the company applauded vigorously at the conclusion of the recitation; and whilst the clapping was still going on a black india-rubber doll rushed in with a very scared face and cried out, “The tide is coming in!” and there was immediately a great commotion throughout the room.

The company rushed helter-skelter to the gate, where they could see that the tide had indeed risen so high as to cut off all communication with the shore. Mr. Waxxe-Doll was stamping about in fury.

“See what comes of all this tomfoolery! Parties, indeed! and hiring Sand Castles for a lot of scatterbrains to make idiots of themselves in! Wait till I get safely home again on my shelf, and you don’t catch me giving any more parties, I can tell you.”

The remainder of the dolls were rushing madly about, wringing their hands and crying that they should all be drowned. One-and-Nine seemed to be the only person able to suggest anything.

“Here is a plank,” he said, pointing to one which had been left on the sand; “we had better all get on to it, and the tide will carry us back to the shore.”

The proposal was hailed with delight by the rest, and they all scrambled on to the plank and waited events. The elaborately dressed dolls in silk and satin held up their dainty skirts so that they should not get wet; whilst the Dutch dolls sat in a row on the edge of the plank with their legs dangling over the side.

Ancient Aunt Sarah threw conventionality to the winds, and lighted up her pipe, at which Mrs. Waxxe-Doll was so shocked that in her agitation she dropped her fan over the side of the plank.

Boy very politely jumped down to fetch it for her, and as he was stepping back a huge wave came rolling up and carried off the plank with all the dolls on it, wetting Boy through to the skin and leaving him standing alone on the wet sand. As the plank with its cargo of screaming dolls floated away, One-and-Nine shouted out, “I will meet you again at Zum,” just as they disappeared behind a rock standing out of the sea.