it was a very warm afternoon, and girlie was sitting by the play-room window watching the gold fish idly swimming about in her little aquarium. she was feeling very “sigh” as she called it, that is, not very happy, for her brothers were all away from home, and she had no one to talk to. even boy, her youngest brother, was staying with some friends at broadstairs, and she thought it very hard that she should have to wait at home for another week before joining him there. her aunt, 8with whom she was staying, had received a letter from him that morning and had brought it up to girlie to read.
“but it will only make me more sorry than ever that i am not there,” thought poor girlie. she had the letter in her hand and was trying to decide whether she should read it or not when she caught sight of a few words at the bottom of the first page, which was half drawn out of the envelope:—
was written in boy’s big, sprawling handwriting.
“whatever is a goo?” thought girlie; and, instead of reading the rest of the letter as most people would have done, she shut her eyes and tried to think whether she had ever heard of, or seen such a thing. she was trying hard to remember whether there was such a creature mentioned in her natural history book, and had just come to the conclusion that she had never read of one, when she heard a little cough from the other end of the room, and, opening her eyes, she saw dumpsey deazil, her favourite doll, struggling up from the very uncomfortable position in which she had been lying, with her head in a domino box and her feet on noah’s ark.
9
dumpsey deazil.
girlie stared with amazement, and the more so when dumpsey deazil, having succeeded in getting on to her feet, walked awkwardly up to where she was sitting, and holding out a stiff, sawdust-stuffed hand, said in a squeaky little voice:
“so you want to know what a goo is, do you?”
“‘you dear old thing,’ cried girlie.”
“oh, you dear old thing!” cried girlie, jumping up excitedly, and catching dumpsey deazil up in her arms. “i always knew that you could talk if you only would, and now at last you are going to do so, just as dolls always do in fairy tale books.”
10“of course all dolls can talk if they like,” said dumpsey deazil; “only they never do so, except when they wish. but about the goo, do you really want to know what it is?”
“yes, i do,” said girlie, “because i don’t remember ever having heard of such a thing.”
“well, i don’t quite know what it is myself,” said dumpsey deazil, “but i can take you to the land of why if you like, where all the questions and answers come 11from, and then you can find out for yourself, you know.”
“oh! that would be splendid!” exclaimed girlie. “is it a very long way off though?”
“yes, it is rather a long way,” admitted dumpsey deazil; “but it would not take us long to get there by the way in which we should go.”
“how is that?” asked girlie. “by train?”
“oh dear, no!” cried dumpsey deazil; “by a much quicker way than that. you have just to take hold of one of my hands and, shutting your eyes very tightly, count up to one hundred aloud, and then when you open them again you will find yourself there.”
“what a funny way to travel,” said girlie. “i am sure, though, that i should like it very much indeed. can we go now, this very minute?”
“yes,” said dumpsey deazil; “but, before we start, you must promise me that you will be very kind to the wallypug, for he is a kind of relation of mine.”
“the wallypug! good gracious! whoever is he?” exclaimed girlie.
“you will see when you get to why,” said dumpsey deazil mysteriously. “now then, are you ready? remember, though, you must be sure and not let go of my 12hand till you have counted up to one hundred, or you will lose me.”
“all right!” promised girlie, taking hold of dumpsey deazil’s hand and screwing up her eyes very tightly. “one, two——”
she was sorely tempted to open her eyes, however, when she felt herself being carried off her feet; still, she felt very comfortable and it seemed to her that she was floating rapidly through the air.
“eighty-five, eighty-six! oh dear! somebody has taken hold of my other hand now,” cried girlie. “i really must look.”
and, opening her eyes, she found herself in a country lane.
a benevolent-looking little old gentleman, dressed in knee breeches and wearing a huge broad-brimmed hat, was holding her wrist with one hand, while in the other he held a toy watch.
dumpsey deazil was floating rapidly away in the distance, frantically waving her arms and screaming out in an agonised voice,—
“i told you not to open your eyes until you had got to one hundred!”
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“dumpsey deazil was floating rapidly away.”
14girlie watched her disappear over the hedge, and then turned in dismay to the little old gentleman, who was still holding her hand and beaming upon her with a reassuring smile.
“your friend was taking you through the air rather too quickly to be good for your health, so i thought that i had better stop you,” he said.
“well, then, i think it was very rude of you,” said girlie, who felt greatly alarmed at having lost dumpsey deazil. “i don’t know, i am sure, however i am going to get home again now,” she continued, feeling half inclined to cry.
“excuse me, you should never say ‘i don’t know,’” said the old gentleman. “it is a very bad plan. if you really do not know anything, you should always pretend that you do. i invariably do so, and i ought to know, for i am the wallypug’s doctor-in-law.”
“oh! who is the wallypug, please?” asked girlie curiously, “and i’m afraid i don’t know what a doctor-in-law is, either.”
“one question at a time, my child,” said the old gentleman. “who the wallypug is you will soon find out for yourself; and a doctor-in-law is something between a father-in-law and a step-father, a sort of half-a-stepfather, 15in fact. that will be six-and-eightpence, please,” and the doctor-in-law held out his hand with a smile.
“what for?” exclaimed girlie.
“professional advice,” said the doctor-in-law blandly.
“what advice?” asked girlie; “i don’t know what you mean.”
“didn’t i advise you never to say, ‘i don’t know’?” explained the doctor-in-law.
“but i didn’t ask you to give me any advice at all,” cried girlie in dismay.
“oh! if i waited till people asked me for advice i should never get any clients!” said the doctor-in-law; “and you might as well give me the other guinea at the same time,” he continued.
“what other guinea? what do you mean?” asked girlie.
“the guinea for professional attendance when you first arrived here,” said the doctor-in-law. “i always charge a guinea for that.”
“but i didn’t want you to attend to me,” said girlie indignantly. “i wish you hadn’t.”
“if i waited till people wanted me to attend to them i should get no patients,” admitted the doctor-in-law; “so i always attend to people when i think they require it, 16whether they wish me to do so, or not. i must really insist on the fee, please. let’s see, that will be three pounds seven altogether, won’t it?” he continued, making a calculation in his pocket-book.
“certainly not!” said girlie; “how can you make that out?”
“well, you see, if you add them together they come to about that,” said the doctor-in-law.
“i am sure they don’t,” cried girlie.
“it’s very rude to contradict your elders,” remarked the doctor-in-law severely. “i am surprised at you. give me the money at once, please.”
“but i have no money with me,” said girlie, getting rather frightened.
“dear me, this is very serious,” said the old gentleman, looking genuinely grieved. “do you really mean to tell me,” he continued, “that you are travelling about the country without any money at all in your pocket?”
“yes,” said girlie. “you see, i didn’t know that i was coming here, or that i should require any.”
“oh! that’s an absurd excuse, my dear,” said the doctor-in-law. “but what’s that in your hand?” he continued, staring at her right hand.
girlie opened it, and found a crumpled piece of paper 17in it, though how it came there she could never tell. smoothing it out, she found it to be a kind of money-order with the words, “please to pay the bearer the sum of five pounds. signed, the wallypug,” written on it.
“oh! a wallypug order for five pounds; that will do very nicely,” said the doctor-in-law, taking it from her and putting it into his pocket. “and now you will only owe me the odd sixpence,” he said.
“what odd sixpence?” asked girlie. “i don’t remember anything about a sixpence.”
“well,” said the doctor-in-law, “if you don’t remember it, it’s very odd, therefore it must be an odd sixpence; don’t you see, my dear?” and he held out his hand again.
“but i’ve already given you five pounds instead of three pounds seven,” said girlie, getting hopelessly muddled.
“well, my dear, don’t let that worry you in the least,” said the doctor-in-law kindly; “i’ll overlook it this time, and, if you can’t find the sixpence, i don’t mind taking your watch instead. i see that you have a very pretty one.”
“i think it’s very unkind and greedy of you, then!” said girlie, turning very red and feeling greatly frightened; for her watch had been given to her by her aunt, and she was allowed to wear it only now and then as a great treat.
“not at all, my dear; you don’t look at these things in 18the right light,” said the doctor-in-law. “don’t you see that, if you can’t pay me the money, it is only fair that you should give me your watch?”
“but it is worth a great deal more than sixpence,” argued girlie.
“not at all!” said the doctor-in-law, flourishing his watch about at the end of the chain. “mine only cost a penny.”
“yes, but yours doesn’t go,” objected girlie; “mine does, you know.”
“does what?” asked the doctor-in-law.
“go!” said girlie.
“oh, well, then, i don’t want it,” said the doctor-in-law hurriedly. “i don’t want a watch that will go, i want one that will stay. why, if my watch was to go, i should always have to be going after it! and, talking about going, i must be off or i shall be late for the wallypug. you can pay me the half-crown when we meet again.” and, with a nod and a smile, the little old gentleman pocketed his watch and hurried off.
“oh! if you please!” cried girlie, running after him, “could you direct me to——”
“can’t stop!” interrupted the doctor-in-law; “my time is far too valuable, and besides, you have no money.” 19and walking rapidly away, he got over a stile and disappeared into a field beyond.
“oh dear me! whatever shall i do now?” thought poor girlie, looking about her in dismay.
there was nobody in sight, so she decided to sit down on the bank and wait until some one came past who would direct her to somewhere or other.
“for i haven’t the remotest idea where i am,” she thought. “i don’t even know how many miles i am from home. i wonder,” she went on, “how many miles one can travel through the air while you count eighty-five. i suppose it depends upon how quickly you are travelling. perhaps i could make a sum of it and do it by rule of three. let’s see! if it takes one girl one minute to count sixty, how many miles can a girl and a doll travel through the air while you count eighty-five? i suppose you have to multiply the minutes by the miles, and divide by the number of people,” she thought; and was so very busy trying to do this sum in her head, as she described it, that she did not notice a young man walking down the lane, till he had nearly reached her.
girlie could scarcely keep from laughing when she first saw him, for he looked such a very comical person; he had long hair, and wore glasses, and carried his hands 20dangling in front of him. (“for all the world like a kangaroo,” thought girlie.)
he came and sat down quite close to her, and after staring at her for some time, smiled in a patronising kind of way.
“he looked such a very comical person.”
“don’t you think me very handsome?” he said at last.
“well, i am afraid not,” stammered girlie, who did not like to hurt his feelings by telling him what she really did think about him.
“dear me! then your eyes must be seen to, decidedly,” 21said the young man. “why, you must be nearly blind not to see that i am very, very beautiful; and i am a very important person, too,” he continued impressively.
“are you really?” asked girlie, who could scarcely keep serious.
“yes, i am a very superior individual indeed. i am the king’s minstrel, enormously rich, and i am going to marry the wallypug’s niece. i compose better than any one else in the world.”
“really!” said girlie. “what do you compose?”
“draughts,” said the king’s minstrel. “of course you have heard of composing draughts.”
“yes,” said girlie. “they are things to send you to sleep, aren’t they?”
“sometimes,” said the king’s minstrel. “mine keep you awake, though, and that’s why they are so much better than anybody else’s.”
“isn’t it very difficult to compose?” asked girlie.
“yes; it requires a great brain like mine to do it properly,” replied the king’s minstrel conceitedly. “would you like to hear my latest composition?” he asked.
“yes, please,” said girlie, folding her hands in her lap and preparing to listen.
22the king’s minstrel took a roll of music from under his arm and, after coughing importantly, began to sing in a very harsh and discordant voice—
“‘won’t you walk into my parlour?’ said the spider to the fly,
how i wonder what you are, up above the world so high.
‘i’m going a-milking, sir,’ she said,
and when she got there the poor dog was dead.
“four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie,
gin a body, kiss a body, need a body cry.
humpty-dumpty sat on a wall,
and if i don’t hurt her she’ll do me no harm.”
“there! isn’t it lovely?” he asked when he had finished.
“why, it’s perfect nonsense!” cried girlie; “it’s just a lot of separate lines from nursery rhymes all strung together; and, besides, there’s no sense in it,” she added.
“that shows you don’t know anything at all about it,” said the king’s minstrel contemptuously. “any respectable person knows that there never should be any sense in really good poetry; the less you are able to understand it the better it is; and it wouldn’t be a composition,” he went on, “if it wasn’t composed of several bits of other poems. the great thing is to get it to rhyme. you see this all rhymes beautifully.”
23“i’m sure the last two lines don’t!” said girlie decidedly.
“oh!” said the king’s minstrel, looking rather confused, “you see, you have to pronounce ‘harm’ as near like ‘wall’ as you can; you often have to do that in poetry, you know. besides, people always pardon little slips of that kind in really clever people, like myself. good-bye! you may have the honour of meeting me again later,” he continued, preparing to go.
“oh, i was going to ask you,” cried girlie hurriedly, “whether you could kindly direct me to why, or tell me the way to get home again.”
“i beg your pardon, but i make it a point never to do anything useful. i am purely ornamental,” said the king’s minstrel, bowing politely and then strutting away with a conceited air, leaving girlie once more alone in the lane.
