Читать книгу Coco Bolo: King of the Floating Islands - Sidford F. Hamp - Страница 6

Picked up the little Admiral

"Nine hours!" cried Frances. "Why, we only stay in twenty minutes twice a week, when we have our swimming lesson. What did you stay in so long for?"

"It was not intentional, I beg to assure you," replied the Admiral. "Far from it. I fell into the sea, and as the tide was going out at the time I had to go with it; and when it did turn and washed me back again, I couldn't find the island."

"The island! What island?" asked Frances.

The little man cocked up his eyebrows in surprise at the question.

"What island?" he repeated. "Why, the Floating Island, of course," pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Oh! So you come from the Floating Islands, do you!" exclaimed Margaret.

"Yes. You will have noticed, I dare say, how the islands keep coming and going and breaking in pieces and changing their shapes. Well, that is what they did yesterday, and every time I thought I was going to land I found that the island had moved away and I had to begin all over again."

"That was horrid," remarked Frances. "Weren't you afraid of being drowned?"

At this question the little Admiral, in spite of his politeness, could not help laughing.

"Drowned!" he cried. "We, Hardwoods, don't get drowned. Why, the Lord Chancellor was washed off the island once and floated about for three months. We all thought he was gone for good, but he turned up again one day none the worse except that his joints wouldn't work for a couple of weeks and nearly all his paint had washed off."

"His paint!" cried Margaret, glancing at the little man's red cheeks. "What is he made of, then?"

"He is one of the Quartered-Oaks—written with a hyphen—a very good family, very hard and very serviceable; though—Ahem!—not quite of such quality as the Boxwoods."

He said this with such a self-conscious air that Margaret ventured a guess.

"You are a—"

The little man laid his right hand on his heart, stuck out his left elbow and bent his body at the hips. With his eyes half closed and with a beaming smile, he said:

"Your Royal Highness has guessed right. I am of the Boxwoods."

"And the Boxwoods are harder than the Quartered Oaks, are they?" asked Margaret.

By way of reply, the little Admiral picked up a pebble and tapped himself on the cheek with it. It sounded like clapping the backs of two hair-brushes together.

"Why!" exclaimed Frances. "You are as hard as—as hard as a door-knob!"

The little man was evidently much pleased with the compliment. Becoming confidential, he stepped forward and said in a low tone:

"Between ourselves, Ladies, the Boxwood family is the hardest on the island. Nobody disputes our position; we come next to the King, himself."

"The King!" cried both children, inquiringly.

"His Majesty, King Coco Bolo," replied the little Admiral, drawing himself up very straight and lifting his cocked hat as high as his short arm would permit.

"But, bless my paint and spangles!" he cried. "What am I thinking of? Here have I been chattering away, forgetting all the time what I came for."

So saying, he removed his cocked hat again and took out of the lining a large, square letter, which he handed to Margaret; and having done so, he retired a few steps, where he stood with his arms a-kimbo and his head on one side, smiling away at nothing. "Just as if he had been taking lessons in cheerfulness and was practising while he waited," thought Frances.

The two children, with their heads close together, each holding a corner of the envelope, spelt out the address. It read:

"To Margaret and Frances. Courtesy of Admiral Boxwood."

"Then he is an Admiral," whispered Margaret, peeping over the top of the envelope at the smiling little gentleman. "That's why he wears a cocked hat and is so polite."

"What does it mean by saying, 'Courtesy of Admiral Boxwood'?" asked Frances. "Do you think they made a mistake and meant to say 'Courtesy to Admiral Boxwood'?"

"Perhaps they did," replied Margaret. "Anyhow, it's better to be too polite than not polite enough, so let's courtesy to him."

Standing up side by side and holding out their frocks with both hands, the two little girls made their very best "cheeses" to the Admiral; upon which the Admiral took off his cocked hat with a flourish and bowed, until the squeaking of his joints warned him to straighten up again.

"What is the letter about?" asked Margaret, turning it over and over. "Here's a big 'C. B. R.' on the back, done in red letters with a gold crown over them. What does C. B. R. mean?"

"Coco Bolo Rex," replied the Admiral, adding: "Rex, you know, means King."

"Oh, I see. Thank you. No, I didn't know. But what is the King writing to us for?"

"Perhaps your Royal Highness had better read the letter and see," replied the Admiral—which really did seem like a very sensible suggestion.

"I'm not very good at reading writing yet," said Margaret, as she drew the letter from the envelope, "but—Oh! It's printed in capital letters. That's easier. It looks like a bill of fare. I'll see if I can read it.

'COCO BOLO

KING OF THE FLOATING ISLANDS

PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS

TO

MARGARET AND FRANCES

AND

REQUESTS THE PLEASURE OF THEIR

COMPANY

AT A GARDEN PARTY

TO MEET

HIS GRACE, THE ARCHBISHOP

OF

TIMBUCTOO-AND-A-HALF'"

"Oh, what fun!" cried Frances, clapping her hands and dancing about. "A garden party! How kind of the King to ask us! Let's go, Margaret."

"Yes, it's very kind of the King; and I should like to go, of course," replied her sister; "but how are we to get there?"

"Nothing easier," remarked the Admiral. "His Majesty is not one to do things by halves. He has sent the royal yacht for your accommodation."

He waved his hand toward the water, where the two little girls noticed for the first time that a boat was gently bobbing up and down upon the swell.