IV.
ENGLAND
The Unwiseman's face wore a very troubled look as the little party oftravellers landed at Liverpool. He had doffed his sailor's costume andnow appeared in his regular frock coat and old fashioned beaver hat, andcarried an ancient carpet-bag in his hand, presenting to Mollie andWhistlebinkie a more familiar appearance than while in his sea-faringclothes, but he was evidently very much worried about something.
"Cheer up," whistled Whistlebinkie noting his careworn expression. "Youlook as if you were down to your last cream-cake. Wass-er-matter?"
"I think they've fooled us," replied the Unwiseman with a doubtful shakeof his gray head. "This don't look like England to me, and I've beenwondering if that ship mightn't be a pirate ship after all that'scarried us all off to some strange place with the idea of thus gettingrid of us, so that the Captain might go home and steal ourkitchen-stoves and other voluble things."
"Pooh!" ejaculated Whistlebinkie. "What makes you thinkit-taintEngland?"
"It's too big in the first place," replied the Unwiseman, "and in thesecond it ain't the right color. Just look at this map and you'll see."
Here Mr. Me took a map of the world out of his pocket and spread it outbefore Whistlebinkie.
"See that?" he said pointing to England in one corner. "I've measured itoff with a tape measure and it's only four inches long and about an inchand a half wide. This place we're in now is more'n five miles long and,as far as I can see two or three miles across. And look at the color onthe map."
"Tspink," said Whistlebinkie.
"I don't know what you mean by tspink," said the Unwiseman, "but----"
"It's-pink," explained Whistlebinkie.
"Exactly," said the Unwiseman. "That's just what it is, but that ain'tthe color of this place. Seems to me this place is a sort of dull yellowdusty brown. And besides I don't see any houses on the map and thisplace is just chock-full of them."
"O well, I guess it's all right," said Whistlebinkie. "Maybe when we getfurther in we'll find it grows pinker. Cities ain't never the same coloras the country you know."
"Possibly," said the Unwiseman, "but even then that wouldn't account forthe difference in size. Why should the map say it's four inches by aninch and a half, when anybody can see that this place is five miles bythree just by looking at it?"
"I guess-smaybe it's grown some since that map was made," suggestedWhistlebinkie. "Being surrounded by water you'd think it would grow."
Just then a British policeman walked along the landing stage andWhistlebinkie added, "There's a p'liceman. You might speak to him aboutit."
"Good idea," said the Unwiseman. "I'll do it." And he walked up to theofficer.
"Good morning, Robert," said he. "You'll pardon my curiosity, but isthis England?"
"Yessir," replied the officer politely. "You are on British soil, sir."
"H'm! British, eh?" observed the Unwiseman. "Just what _is_ that?French for English, I suppose."
"This is Great Britain, sir," explained the officer with a smile."Hingland is a part of Great Britain."
"Hingland?" asked the Unwiseman with a frown.
"Yessir--this is Hingland, sir," replied the policeman, as he turned onhis heel and wandered on down the stage leaving the Unwiseman moreperplexed than when he had asked the question.
"It looks queerer than ever," said the Unwiseman when he had returned toWhistlebinkie. "These people don't seem to have agreed on the name ofthis place, which I consider to be a very suspicious circumstance. Thatpoliceman said first it was England, then he said it was Great Britain,and then he changed it to Hingland, while Mollie's father says it'sLiverpool. It's mighty strange, and I wish I was well out of it."
"Why did you call the p'liceman Robert, Mr. Me?" asked Whistlebinkie,who somehow or other did not seem to share the old gentleman's fears.
"O I read somewhere that the English policemen were all Bobbies," theUnwiseman replied. "But I didn't feel that I'd ought to be so familiaras to call him that until I'd got to know him better, so I just calledhim Robert."
Later on Mollie explained the situation to the old fellow.
"Liverpool," she said, "is a part of England and England is a part ofGreat Britain, just as Binghamton is a part of New York and New York isa part of the United States of America."
"Ah--that's it, eh?" he answered. "And how about Hingland?"
"That is the way some of the English people talk," explained Mollie. "Agreat many of them drop their H's," she added.
"Aha!" said the Unwiseman, nodding his head. "I see. And the police goaround after them picking them up, eh?"
"I guess that's it," said Mollie.
"Because if they didn't," continued the Unwiseman, "the streets andgutters would be just over-run with 'em. If 20,000,000 people droppedtwenty-five H's apiece every day that would be 500,000,000 H's lyin'around. I don't believe you could drive a locomotive through thatmany--Mussy Me! It must keep the police busy pickin' 'em up."
"Perfly-awful!" whistled Whistlebinkie.
"I'm going to write a letter to the King about it," said the Unwiseman,"and send him a lot of rules like I have around my house to keep peoplefrom being so careless."
"That's a splendid idea," cried Mollie, overjoyed at the notion. "Whatwill you say?"
"H'm!" said the Unwiseman. "Let me see--I guess I'd write like this:"and the strange old man sat down on a trunk and dashed off the followingletter to King Edward.
DEAR MISTER KING:
Liverpool, June 10, 19--.
I understand that the people of your Island is very careless about their aitches and that the pleece are worked to a frazzil pickin' 'em up from the public highways. Why don't you by virtue of your exhausted rank propagate the following rules to unbait the nuisance?
I. My subjex must be more careful of their aitches.
II. Any one caught dropping an aitch on the public sidewalks will be fined two dollars.
III. Aitches dropped by accident must be picked up to once immediately and without delay.
IV. All aitches found roaming about the city streets unaccompanied by their owners will be promptly arrested by the pleece and kept in the public pound until called for after which they will be burnt, and the person calling for them fined two dollars.
V. All persons whether they be a pleeceman or a Dook or other nobil personidges seeing a strange aitch lying on the sidewalk, or otherwise roaming at random without any visible owner whether it is his or not must pick it up to once immediately and without delay under penalty of the law.
VI. Capital H's must be muzzled before took out in public and must be securely fastened by glue or otherwise to the words they are the beginning of.
VII. Anybody tripping up on the aitch of another person thus carelessly left lying about can sue for damages and get two dollars for a broken leg, five dollars for a broken nose, seven dollars and a half for a black eye, and so on up, from the person leaving the aitch thus carelessly about, or a year's imprisonment, or both.
VIII. A second offense will be punished by being sent to South Africa for five years when if the habit is continued more severe means will be taken like being made to live in Boston or some other icebound spot.
IX. School teachers catching children using aitches in this manner will keep them in after school and notify their parents who will spank them and send them to bed without their supper.
X. Pleecemen will report all aitches found on public streets to the public persecutor and will be paid at the rate of six cents a million for all they pick up.
I think if your madjesty will have these rules and regulations printed on a blue pasteboard card in big red letters and hung up all over everywhere you will be able, your h. r. h., to unbait this terrible nuisance.
Yoors trooly, THE UNWISEMAN.<
br />
P.S. It may happen, your h. r. h., that some of your subjex can't help themselves in this aitch dropping habit, and it would therefore be mercyful of you to provide letter boxes on all the street cornders where they could drop their aitches into without breaking the rules of your high and mighty highness.
Give my love to the roil family. Yoors trooly, THE UNWISEMAN.
"There," he said when he had scribbled the letter off with his leadpencil. "If the King can only read that it ought to make him muchobliged to me for helping him out of a very bad box. This Island ain'tso big, map or no map, that they can afford to have it smothered inaitches as it surely will be if the habit ain't put a stop to. I wonderwhat the King's address is."
"I don't know," said Whistlebinkie with a grin. "He and I ain't nevercalled on each other yet."
"Is King his last name or his first, I wonder," said the Unwiseman,scratching his head wonderingly.
"His first name is Edward," said Mollie. "It used to be Albert Edward,but he dropped the Albert."
"Edward what?" demanded the Unwiseman. "Don't they call him EdwardSeventh?"
"Yes they do," said Mollie.
"Then I guess I'll address it to Edward S. King, Esquire, Number Seven,London--that's where all the kings live when they're home," said theUnwiseman.
And so the letter went addressed to Edward S. King, Esquire, NumberSeven, London, England, but whether His Majesty ever received it or notI do not know. Certainly if he did he never answered it, and that makesme feel that he never received it, for the King of England is known asthe First Gentleman of Europe, and I am quite sure that one who deservesso fine a title as that would not leave a polite letter like theUnwiseman's unanswered. Mollie's father was very much impressed when heheard of the Unwiseman's communication.
"I shouldn't be surprised if the King made him a Duke, for that," hesaid. "It is an act of the highest statesmanship to devise so simple aplan to correct so widespread an evil. If the Unwiseman were only anEnglishman he might even become Prime Minister."
"No," said the Unwiseman later, when Mollie told him what her father hadsaid. "He couldn't make me Prime Minister because I haven't ever studiedzoology and couldn't preach a sermon or even take up a collectionproperly, but as for being a Duke--well if he asked me as a specialfavor I might accept that. The Duke of Me--how would that sound,Mollie?"
"Oh it would be perfectly beautiful!" cried Mollie overwhelmed by thevery thought of anything so grand.
"Or Baron Brains--eh?" continued the Unwiseman.
"That would just suit you," giggled Whistlebinkie. "Barren Brains is youall over."
"Thank you, Fizzledinkie," said the Unwiseman. "For once I quite agreewith you. I guess I'll call on some tailor up in London and see what itwould cost me to buy a Duke's uniform so's to be ready when the Kingsends for me. It would be fine to walk into his office with a linenduster on and have him say, 'From this time on Mister Me you're a Duke.Go out and get dressed for tea,' and then turn around three times, bowto the Queen, whisk off the duster and stand there in the roil presencewith the Duke's uniform already on. I guess he'd say that was Americanenterprise all right."
"You'd make a hit for sure!" roared Whistlebinkie dancing up and downwith glee.
"I'll do it!" ejaculated the Unwiseman with a look of determination inhis eyes. "If I can get a ready-made Duke's suit for $8.50 I'll do it.Even if it never happened I could wear the suit to do my gardening inwhen I get home. Did your father say anything about this being Englandor not?"
"Yes," said Mollie. "He said it was England all right. He's been herebefore and he says you can always tell it by the soldiers walking aroundwith little pint measures on their heads instead of hats, and littleboys in beaver hats with no tails to their coats."
"All right," said the Unwiseman. "I'm satisfied if he is--only the manthat got up that map ought to be spoken to about making it pink when itis only a dull yellow dusty gray, and only four inches long instead offive miles. Some stranger trying to find it in the dark some night mightstumble over it and never know that he'd got what he was looking for.Where are we going to from here?"
"We're going straight up to London," said Mollie. "The train goes in anhour--just after lunch. Will you come and have lunch with us?"
"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "I've got a half dozen lunchessaved up from the ship there in my carpet bag, and I'll eat a couple ofthose if I get hungry."
"Saved up from the ship?" cried Mollie.
"Yep," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a bottle full of that chicken broththey gave us the first day out that I didn't even try to eat; six orseven bottlefuls of beef tea, and about two dozen ginger-snaps, eightpounds of hard-tack, and a couple of apple pies. I kept ordering thingsall the way across whether I felt like eating them or not and whatever Ididn't eat I'd bottle up, or wrap up in a piece of paper and put away inthe bag. I've got just three dinners, two breakfasts and four lunches inthere. When I get to London I'm going to buy a bunch of bananas and havean eclaire put up in a tin box and those with what I've already gotought to last me throughout the whole trip."
"By the way, Mr. Me," said Mollie, a thoughtful look coming into hereyes. "Do you want me to ask my Papa to buy you a ticket for London? Ithink he'd do it if I asked him."
"I know he would," said Whistlebinkie. "He's one of the greatest men inthe world for doing what Mollie asks him to."
"No thank you," replied the Unwiseman. "Of course if he had invited meto join the party at the start I might have been willing to have went athis expense, but seeing as how I sort of came along on my own hook Ithink I'd better look after myself. I'm an American, I am, and I kind oflike to be free and independent like."
"Have you any money with you?" asked Mollie anxiously.
"No," laughed the Unwiseman. "That is, not more'n enough to buy thatDuke's suit for $8.50 with. What's the use of having money? It's only anuisance to carry around, and it makes you buy a lot of things you don'twant just because you happen to have it along. People without money getalong a great deal cheaper than people with it. Millionaires spend twiceas much as poor people. Money ain't very sociable you know and it sortof hates to stay with you no matter how kind you are to it. So I didn'tbring any along except the aforesaid eight-fifty."
"Tisn't much, is it," said Mollie.
"Not in dollars, but it's a lot in cents--eight hundred and fifty of'em--that's a good deal," said the Unwiseman cheerfully. "Then each centis ten mills--that's--O dear me--such a lot of mills!"
"Eight thousand five hundred," Mollie calculated.
"Goodness!" cried the Unwiseman. "I hope there don't anybody find outI've got all that with me. I'd be afraid to go to sleep for fearsomebody'd rob me."
"But _how_--how are you going to get to London?" asked Mollie anxiously."It's too far to walk."
"O I'll get there," said the Unwiseman.
"He'll probably get a hitch on the cow-catcher," suggestedWhistlebinkie.
"Don't you worry," laughed the Unwiseman. "It'll be all right, only--"here he paused and looked about him to make sure that no one waslistening. "Only," he whispered, "I wish somebody would carry mycarpet-bag. It's a pretty big one as you can see, and I _might_--I don'tsay I would--but I might have trouble getting to London if I had tocarry it."
"I'll be very glad to take care of it," said Mollie. "Should I have itchecked or take it with me in the train?"
"Better take it with you," said the Unwiseman. "I haven't any key andsome of these railway people might open it and eat up all my supplies."
"Very well," said Mollie. "I'll see that it's put in the train and Iwon't take my eyes off it all the way up to London."
So the little party went up to the hotel. The Unwiseman's carpet-bag wasplaced with the other luggage, and the family went in to luncheonleaving the Unwiseman to his own devices. When they came out the oldfellow was nowhere to be seen and Mollie, much worried about him boardedthe train. Her father helped her with the carpet-bag, the train-door wasclo
sed, the conductor came for the tickets and with a loud clanging ofbells the train started for London. It was an interesting trip but poorlittle Mollie did not enjoy it very much. She was so worried to thinkof the Unwiseman all alone in England trying some new patent way of hisown for getting over so many miles from Liverpool to the capital of theBritish Empire.
"We didn't even tell him the name of our hotel, Whistlebinkie," shewhispered to her companion. "How will he ever find us again in this bigplace."
"O-he'll-turn-up orright," whistled Whistlebinkie comfortingly. "Heknows a thing or two even if he is an Unwiseman."
And as it turned out Whistlebinkie was right, for about three minutesafter their arrival at the London hotel, when the carpet-bag had beenset carefully aside in one corner of Mollie's room, the cracked voice ofthe Unwiseman was heard singing:
"O a carpet-bag is more comfortabler Than a regular Pullman Car. Just climb inside and with never a stir, Let no one know where you are; And then when the train goes choo-choo-choo And the ticket man comes arown, You'll go without cost and a whizz straight through To jolly old London-town. To jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly, to jolly old London-town."
"Hi there, Mollie--press the latch on this carpet-bag!" the voicecontinued.
"Where are you?" cried Mollie, gazing excitedly about her.
"In here," came the voice from the cavernous depths of the carpet-bag.
"In the bag," gasped Mollie, breathless with surprise.
"_The_ same--let me out," replied the Unwiseman.
And sure enough, when Mollie and Whistlebinkie with a mad rush sped tothe carpet-bag and pressed on the sliding lock, the bag flew open andMr. Me himself hopped smilingly up out of its wide-stretched jaws.