V.
A CALL ON THE KING
"Mercy!" cried Mollie as the Unwiseman stepped out of the carpet-bag,and began limbering up his stiffened legs by pirouetting about the room."Aren't you nearly stufficated to death?"
"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "Why should I be?"
"Well _I_ should think the inside of a carpet-bag would be prettysmothery," observed Mollie.
"Perhaps it would be," agreed the Unwiseman, "if I hadn't taken mightygood care that it shouldn't be. You see I brought that life-preserveralong, and every time I needed a bite of fresh air, I'd unscrew the tincap and get it. I pumped it full of fine salt air the day we leftIreland for just that purpose."
"What a splendid idea!" ejaculated Mollie full of admiration for theUnwiseman's ingenuity.
"Yes I think it's pretty good," said the Unwiseman, "and when I get backhome I'm going to invent it and make a large fortune out of it. Ofcourse there ain't many people nowadays, especially among the rich, whotravel in carpet-bags the way I do, or get themselves checked throughfrom New York to Chicago in trunks, but there are a lot of 'em who arealways complaining about the lack of fresh air in railroad trainsespecially when they're going through tunnels, so I'm going to patent alittle pocket fresh air case that they can carry about with them and usewhen needed. It is to be made of rubber like a hot-water bag, and allyou've got to do before starting off on a long journey is to take yourbicycle pump, pump the fresh-air bag full of the best air you can findon the place and set off on your trip. Then when the cars get snuffy,just unscrew the cap and take a sniff."
"My goodness!" cried Mollie. "You ought to make a million dollars out ofthat."
"Million?" retorted the Unwiseman. "Well I should say so. Why there are80,000,000 people in America and if I sold one of those fresh-air bags ayear to only 79,000,000 of 'em at two dollars apiece for ten years yousee where I'd come out. They'd call me the Fresh Air King and print mypicture in the newspapers."
"You couldn't lend me two dollars now, could you?" asked Whistlebinkiefacetiously.
"Yes I _could_," said the Unwiseman with a frown, "but I won't--but youcan go out on the street and breathe two dollars worth of fresh air anytime you want to and have it charged to my account."
Mollie laughed merrily at the Unwiseman's retort, and Whistlebinkie forthe time being had nothing to say, or whistle either for that matter.
"You missed a lot of interesting scenery on the way up, Mr. Me," saidMollie.
"No I didn't," said the Unwiseman. "I heard it all as it went by, andthat's good enough for me. I'd just as lief hear a thing as see it anyday. I saw some music once and it wasn't half as pretty to look at as itwas when I heard it, and it's the same way about scenery if you only getyour mind fixed up so that you can enjoy it that way. Somehow or otherit didn't sound so very different from the scenery I've heard at home,and that's one thing that made me like it. I'm very fond of sittingquietly in my little room at home and listening to the landscape whenthe moon is up and the stars are out, and no end of times as we rattledalong from Liverpool to London it sounded just like things do over inAmerica, especially when we came to the switches at the railroadconjunctions. Don't they rattle beautifully!"
"They certainly do!" said Whistlebinkie, prompted largely by a desire toget back into the good graces of the Unwiseman. "I love it when we bumpover them so hard they make-smee-wissle."
"You're all right when you whistle, Fizzledinkie," smiled the Unwiseman."It's only when you try to talk that you are not all that you should be.Woyds and you get sort of tangled up and I haven't got time to ravel youout. But I say, Mollie, we're really in London are we?"
"Yes," said Mollie. "This is it."
"Well I guess I'll go out and see what there is about it that makespeople want to come here," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a list ofthings I want to see, and the sooner I get to work the sooner I'll see'em. First thing I want to get a sight of is a real London fog. Then ofcourse I want to go down to the Aquarium and see the Prince of Whales,and call on the King and Queen, and meet a few Dukes, and Earls andthings like that. Then there's the British Museum. I'm told there is alot of very interesting things down there including some Egyptianmummies that are passing their declining years there. I've never talkedto a mummy in my life and I'd rather like to meet a few of 'em. I wonderif Dick Whittington's cat is still living."
"O I don't believe so," said Mollie. "He must have died long years ago."
"The first time and maybe the second or third or even the fourth time,"said the Unwiseman. "But cats have nine lives and if he lived fiftyyears for each of them that would be--let's see, four times nine iseighteen, three times two is ten, carry four and----"
"It would be 450 years," laughed Mollie.
"Pretty old cat," said Whistlebinkie.
"Well there's no harm in asking anyhow, and if he is alive I'm going tosee him, and if he isn't the chances are they've had him stuffed and astuffed cat is better to look at than no cat at all," said theUnwiseman, brushing off his hat preparatory to going out. "Come on,Mollie--are you ready?"
The little party trudged down the stairs and out upon the avenue uponwhich their hotel fronted.
"Guess we'd better take a hansom," said the Unwiseman as they emergedfrom the door. "We'll save time going that way if the driver knows hisbusiness. We'll just tell him to go where we want to go, and in that waywe won't have to keep asking these Roberts the way round."
"Roberts?" asked Mollie, forgetting the little incident at Liverpool.
"Oh well--the Bobbies--the pleecemen," replied the Unwiseman. "I want toget used to 'em before I call them that."
So they all climbed into a hansom cab.
"Where to, sir?" asked the cabby, through the little hole in the roof.
"Well I suppose we ought to call on the King first," said the Unwisemanto Mollie. "Don't you?"
"I guess so," said Mollie timidly.
"To the King's," said the Unwiseman, through the little hole.
"Beg pardon!" replied the astonished cabby.
"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman. "Drive to the King's house firstand apologize afterwards."
"I only wanted to know where you wished to go, sir," said the cabby.
"The King's, stupid," roared the Unwiseman, "Mr. Edward S.King's--didn't you ever hear of him?"
"To the Palace, sir?" asked the driver.
"Of course unless his h. r. h. is living in a tent somewhere--and hurryup. We didn't engage you for the pleasures of conversation, but to driveus," said the Unwiseman severely.
The amazed cabman whipped up his horse and a short while afterwardsreached Buckingham Palace, the home of the King and Queen in London. Ateither side of the gate was a tall sentry box, and a magnificentred-coated soldier with a high bear-skin shako on his head paced alongthe path.
"There he is now," said the Unwiseman, excitedly, pointing at the guard."Isn't he a magnificent sight. Come along and I'll introduce you."
The Unwiseman leapt jauntily out of the hansom and Mollie andWhistlebinkie timidly followed.
"Howdido, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman stepping in front of the sentryand making a profound salaam and almost sweeping the walk with his hat."We've just arrived in London and have called to pay our respects to youand Mrs. King. I hope the children are well. We're Americans, Mr. King,but for the time being we've decided to overlook all our littledifferences growing out of the Declaration of Independence and wish youa Merry Fourth of July."
The sentry was dumb with amazement at this unexpected greeting, and thecabby's eyes nearly dropped out of his head they bulged so.
"Mollie, dear," continued Mr. Me, "Come here, my child and let meintroduce you to Mr. King. Mr. King, this is a little American girlnamed Mollie. She's a bit bashful in your h. r. h's presence becausebetween you and me you are the first real King she's ever saw. We don'tgrow 'em in our country--that is not your kind. We have Cattle Kings andSteel Kings, and I'm expecting to become a Fresh Air King myself--butthe kind that's born
to the--er--to the purple like yourself, with agilt crown on his head and the spectre of power in his hand we don't geteven at the circus."
MOLLY MAKES HER COURTESY TO MR. KING]
"Very glad to meet you," gasped Mollie, feasting her eyes upon thegorgeous red coat of the sentry.
The sentry not knowing what else to do and utterly upset by theUnwiseman's eloquence returned the gasp as politely as he could.
"She's a mighty nice little girl, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman with afond glance of admiration at Mollie. "And if any of your little kingsand queens feel like calling at the hotel some morning for a friendlyAnglo-American romp, Mollie will be very glad to see them. This otheryoung person, your h. r. h., is Whistlebinkie who belongs to one of thebest Rubber families of the United States. He looks better than hetalks. Whistlebinkie, Mr. King. Mr. King, Whistlebinkie."
Whistlebinkie, too overcome to speak, merely squeaked, a proceedingwhich seemed to please the sentry very much for he returned a trulyroyal smile and expressed himself as being very glad to meetWhistlebinkie.
"Been having pretty cold weather?" asked the Unwiseman genially.
"Been rawther 'ot," said the sentry.
"I only asked," said the Unwiseman with a glance at the guard's shako,"because I see you have your fur crown on. Our American Kings wearPanama crowns this weather," he added, "but then we're free over thereand can do pretty much what we like. Did you get my letter?"
"Beg your pardon?" asked the sentry.
"Mercy!" ejaculated the Unwiseman under his breath. "What an apologeticpeople these English are--first the cabby and now the King." Then herepeated aloud, "My letter--I wrote to you yesterday about this Hdropping habit of your people, and I was going to say that if afterreading it you decided to make me a Duke I'd be very glad to accept ifthe clothes a Duke has to wear don't cost more than $8.50. I might evengo as high as nine dollars if the suit was a real good one that I couldwear ten or eleven years--but otherwise I couldn't afford it. It wouldbe very kind of your h. r. h. to make me one, but I've always made it arule not to spend more than a dollar a year on my clothes and even aDuke has got to wear socks and neckties in addition to his coats andtrousers. Who is your Majesty's Tailor? That red coat fits you likewall-paper."
The sentry said something about buying his uniforms at the Army and Navystores and the Unwiseman observed that he would most certainly have togo there and see what he could get for himself.
"I'll tell 'em your h. r. h. sent me," he said pleasantly, "and maybethey'll give you a commission on what I buy."
A long pause followed broken only by Whistlebinkie's heavy breathing forhe had by no means recovered from his excitement over having met a realking at last. Finally the Unwiseman spoke again.
"We'd like very much to accept your kind invitation to stay to supper,Mr. King," he observed--although the sentry had said nothing at allabout any such thing--"but we really can't to-night. You see we arepaying pretty good rates at the hotel and we feel it a sort of duty tostay there and eat all we can so as to get our money's worth. And we'dlike to meet the Queen too, but as you can see for yourself we're hardlydressed for that. We only came anyhow to let you know that we were hereand to tell you that if you ever came to America we'd be mighty glad tohave you call. I've got a rather nice house of my own with akitchen-stove in it that I wouldn't sell for five dollars that you wouldenjoy seeing. It's rented this summer to one of the most successfulburgulars in America and I think you'd enjoy meeting him, and don'thesitate to bring the children. America's a great place for children,your h. r. h. It's just chock full of back yards for 'em to play in, andbanisters to slide down, and roller skating rinks and all sorts ofthings that children enjoy. I'll be very glad to let you use my umbrellatoo if the weather happens to be bad."
The sentry was very much impressed apparently by the cordiality of theUnwiseman's invitation for he bowed most graciously a half dozen times,and touched his bear-skin hat very respectfully, and smiled so royallythat anybody could see he was delighted with the idea of some dayvisiting that far off land where the Unwiseman lived, and seeing thatwonderful kitchen-stove of which, as we know, the old gentleman was soproud.
"By the way," said the Unwiseman, confidentially. "Before I go I'd liketo say to you that if you are writing at any time to the Emperor ofGermany you might send him my kind regards. I had hoped to be able tostop over at Kettledam, or wherever it is he lives--no, it's Pottsdam--Ialways do get pots and kettles mixed--I had hoped to be able, I say, tostop over there and pay my respects to him, but the chances are I won'tbe able to do so this trip. I'd hate to have him think that I'd beenover here and hadn't paid any attention to him, and if you'll be so kindas to send him my regards he won't feel so badly about it. I'd write andtell him myself, but the fact is my German is a little rusty. I onlyknow German by sight--and even then I don't know what it means exceptGesundheit,--which is German for 'did you sneeze?' So you see a letteraddressed to Mr. Hoch----"
"Beg pardon, but Mr. Who sir?" asked the Sentry.
"Mr. Hoch, der Kaiser," said the Unwiseman. "That's his name, isn't it?"
The sentry said he believed it was something like that.
"Well as I was saying even if I wrote he wouldn't understand what I wastrying to say, so it would be a waste of time," said the Unwiseman.
The sentry nodded pleasantly, and his eyes twinkled under his greatbear-skin hat like two sparkling bits of coal.
"Good bye, your h. r. h.," the Unwiseman continued, holding out hishand. "It has been a real pleasure to meet you, and between you and meif all kings were as good mannered and decent about every thing as youare we wouldn't mind 'em so much over in America. If the rest of 'em arelike you they're all right."
And so the Unwiseman shook hands with the sentry and Mollie did likewisewhile Whistlebinkie repeated his squeak with a quaver that showed howexcited he still was. The three travellers re-entered the hansom andinasmuch as it was growing late they decided not to do any moresight-seeing that day, and instructed the cabby to drive them back tothe hotel.
"Wonderfully fine man, that King," said the Unwiseman as they drovealong. "I had a sort of an idea he'd have a band playing music all thetime, with ice cream and cake being served every five minutes in trulyroyal style."
"He was just as pleasant as a plain everyday policeman at home," saidMollie.
"Pleasanter," observed the Unwiseman. "A policeman at home wouldprobably have told us to move on the minute we spoke to him, but theKing was as polite as ginger-bread. I guess we were lucky to find himoutside there because if he hadn't been I don't believe the head-butlerwould have let us in."
"How-dy'u-know he was the King?" asked Whistlebinkie.
"Oh I just felt it in my bones," said the Unwiseman. "He was so big andhandsome, and then that red coat with the gold buttons--why it justsimply couldn't be anybody else."
"He didn't say much, diddee," whistled Whistlebinkie.
"No," said the Unwiseman. "I guess maybe that's one of the reasons whyhe's a first class King. The fellow that goes around talking all thetime might just as well be a--well a rubber-doll like you, Fizzledinkie.It takes a great man to hold his tongue."
The hansom drew up at the hotel door and the travellers alighted.
"Thank you very much," said the Unwiseman with a friendly nod at thecabby.
"Five shillin's, please, sir," said the driver.
"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.
"Five shillin's," repeated the cabby.
"What do you suppose he means?" asked the Unwiseman turning to Mollie.
"Why he wants to be paid five shillings," whispered Mollie. "Shillingsis money."
"Oh--hm--well--I never thought of that," said the Unwiseman uneasily."How much is that in dollars?"
"It's a dollar and a quarter," said Mollie.
"I don't want to buy the horse," protested the Unwiseman.
"Come now!" put in the driver rather impatiently. "Five shillin's,sir."
"Charge it," said the Unwiseman,
shrinking back. "Just put it on thebill, driver, and I'll send you a cheque for it. I've only got tendollars in real money with me, and I tell you right now I'm not going topay out a dollar and a quarter right off the handle at one fell swoop."
"You'll pay now, or I'll--" the cabby began.
And just then, fortunately for all, Mollie's father, who had beenlooking all over London for his missing daughter, appeared, and in hisjoy over finding his little one, paid the cabby and saved the Unwisemanfrom what promised to be a most unpleasant row.