VI.
THEY GET SOME FOG AND GO SHOPPING
The following day the Unwiseman was in high-feather. At last he was ableto contemplate in all its gorgeousness a real London fog of which he hadheard so much, for over the whole city hung one of those deep, dark,impenetrable mists which cause so much trouble at times to those whodwell in the British capital.
"Hurry up, Mollie, and come out," he cried enthusiastically rapping onthe little girl's door. "There's one of the finest fogs outside you eversaw. I'm going to get a bottle full of it and take it home with me."
"Hoh!" jeered Whistlebinkie. "What a puffickly 'bsoyd thing to do--as ifwe never didn't have no fogs at home!"
"We don't have any London fogs in America, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie.
"No but we have very much finer ones," boasted the patrioticWhistlebinkie. "They're whiter and cleaner to begin with, and twice asdeep."
"Well never mind, Whistlebinkie," said Mollie. "Don't go looking aroundfor trouble with the Unwiseman. It's very nice to be able to enjoyeverything as much as he does and you shouldn't never find fault withpeople because they enjoy themselves."
"Hi-there, Mollie," came the Unwiseman's voice at the door. "Just openthe door a little and I'll give you a hatful of it."
"You can come in," said Mollie. "Whistlebinkie and I are all dressed."
And the little girl opened the door and the Unwiseman entered. Hecarried his beaver hat in both hands, as though it were a pail without ahandle, and over the top of it he had spread a copy of the morning'spaper.
"It's just the finest fog ever," he cried as he came in. "Real thick. Ithought you'd like to have some, so I went out on the sidewalk and got ahat full of it for you."
Mollie and Whistlebinkie gathered about the old gentleman as he removedthe newspaper from the top of his hat, and gazed into it.
"I do-see-anthing," whistled Whistlebinkie.
"You don't?" cried the Unwiseman. "Why it's chock full of fog. You cansee it can't you Mollie?" he added anxiously, for to tell the truth thehat did seem to be pretty empty.
Mollie tried hard and was able to convince herself that she could seejust a tiny bit of it and acted accordingly.
"Isn't it beautiful!" she ejaculated, as if filled with admiration forthe contents of the Unwiseman's hat. "I don't think I ever saw any justlike it before--did you, Mr. Me?"
"No," said the Unwiseman much pleased, "I don't think I ever did--it'sso delicate and--er--steamy, eh? And there's miles of it outdoors andthe Robert down on the corner says we're welcome to all we want of it. Ididn't like to take it without asking, you know."
"Of course not," said Mollie, glancing into the hat again.
"So I just went up to the pleeceman and told him I was going to start amuseum at home and that I wanted to have some real London fog onexhibition and would he mind if I took some. 'Go ahead, sir,' he saidvery politely. 'Go ahead and take all you want. We've got plenty of itand to spare. You can take it all if you want it.' Mighty kind of him Ithink," said the Unwiseman. "So I dipped out a hat full for you first.Where'll I put it?"
"O----," said Mollie, "I--I don't know. I guess maybe you'd better pourit out into that vase up there on the mantel-piece--it isn't too thickto go in there, is it?"
"It don't seem to be," said the Unwiseman peering cautiously into thehat. "Somehow or other it don't seem quite as thick inside here as itdid out there on the street. Tell you the truth I don't believe it'llkeep unless we get it in a bottle and cork it up good and tight--doyou?"
"I'm afraid not," agreed Mollie. "It's something like snow--kind ofvaporates."
"I'm going to put mine in a bottle," said the Unwiseman, "and seal thecork with sealing wax--then I'll be sure of it. Then I thought I'd getan envelope full and send it home to my Burgular just to show him Ihaven't forgotten him--poor fellow, he must be awful lonesome up therein my house without any friends in the neighborhood and no otherburgulars about to keep him company."
And the strange little man ran off to get his bottle filled with fogand to fill up an envelope with it as well as a souvenir of London forthe lonesome Burglar at home. Later on Mollie encountered him leavingthe hotel door with a small shovel and bucket in his hand such aschildren use on the beach in the summer-time.
"The pleeceman says it's thicker down by the river," he explained toMollie, "and I'm going down there to shovel up a few pailsful--thoughI've got a fine big bottleful of it already corked up and labelled formy museum. And by the way, Mollie, you want to be careful aboutWhistlebinkie in this fog. When he whistles on a bright clear day it ishard enough to understand what he is saying, but if he gets _his_ hatfull of fog and tries to whistle with that it will be something awful. Idon't think I could stand him if he began to talk any foggier than hedoes ordinarily."
Mollie promised to look out for this and kept Whistlebinkie indoors allthe morning, much to the rubber-doll's disgust, for Whistlebinkie wasquite as anxious to see how the fog would affect his squeak as theUnwiseman was to avoid having him do so. In the afternoon the fog liftedand the Unwiseman returned.
"I think I'll go out and see if I can find the King's tailor," he said."I'm getting worried about that Duke's suit. I asked the Robert what hethought it would cost and he said he didn't believe you could get onecomplete for less than five pounds and the way I figure it out that's agood deal more than eight-fifty."
"It's twenty-five dollars," Mollie calculated.
"Mercy!" cried the Unwiseman. "It costs a lot to dress by the pounddoesn't it--I guess I'd better write to Mr. King and tell him I'vedecided not to accept."
"Better see what it costs first," said Whistlebinkie.
"All right," agreed the Unwiseman. "I will--want to go with me Mollie?"
"Certainly," said Mollie.
And they started out. After walking up to Trafalgar Square and thence onto Piccadilly, the Unwiseman carefully scanning all the signs before theshops as they went, they came to a bake-shop that displayed in itswindow the royal coat of arms and announced that "Muffins by SpecialAppointment to H. R. H. the King," could be had there.
"We're getting close," said the Unwiseman. "Let's go in and have a royalcream-cake."
Mollie as usual was willing and entering the shop the Unwiseman plantedhimself before the counter and addressed the sales-girl.
"I'm a friend of Mr. King, Madame," he observed with a polite bow, "justover from America and we had a sort of an idea that we should like toeat a really regal piece of cake. What have you in stock made by SpecialAppointment for the King?"
"We 'ave Hinglish Muffins," replied the girl.
"Let me see a few," said the Unwiseman.
The girl produced a trayful.
"Humph!" ejaculated the Unwiseman looking at them critically. "Theyain't very different from common people's muffins are they? What I wantis some of the stuff that goes to the Palace. I may look green, younglady, but I guess I've got sense enough to see that those things are_not_ royal."
"THESE ARE THE KIND HIS MAJESTY PREFERS," SAID THE GIRL]
"These are the kind his majesty prefers," said the girl.
"Come along, Mollie," said the Unwiseman turning away. "I don't wantto get into trouble and I'm sure this young lady is trying to fool us. Iam very much obliged to you, Madame," he added turning to the girl atthe counter. "We'd have been very glad to purchase some of your wares ifyou hadn't tried to deceive us. Those muffins are very pretty indeed butwhen you try to make us believe that they are muffins by specialappointment to his h. r. h., Mr. Edward S. King, plain and simpleAmericans though we be, we know better. Even my rubber friend,Whistlebinkie here recognizes a bean when he sees it. I shall reportthis matter to the King and beg to wish you a very good afternoon."
And drawing himself up to his full height, the Unwiseman with a greatshow of dignity marched out of the shop followed meekly by Mollie andWhistlebinkie.
"I-didn-tsee-an-thing th-matter-withem," whistled Whistlebinkie. "Theylooked to me like firs-class-smuffins."
"
No doubt," said the Unwiseman. "That's because you don't know much. Butthey couldn't fool me. If I'd wanted plain muffins I could have askedfor them, but when I ask for a muffin by special appointment to hish. r. h. the King I want them to give me what I ask for. Perhaps youdidn't observe that not one of those muffins she brought out was setwith diamonds and rubies."
"Now that you mention it," said Mollie, "I remember they weren't."
"Prezactly," said the Unwiseman. "They weren't even gold mounted, orsilver plated, or anything to make 'em different from the plain everyday muffins that you can buy in a baker's shop at home. I don't believethey were by special appointment to anybody--not even a nearl, much lessthe King. I guess they think we Americans don't know anything overhere--but they're barking up the wrong tree if they think they can foolme."
"We-mightuv-tastedum!" whistled Whistlebinkie much disappointed, becausehe always did love the things at the baker's. "You can't tell just bylookin' at a muffin whether it's good or not."
"Well go back and taste them," retorted the Unwiseman. "It's yourtaste--only if I had as little taste as you have I wouldn't waste it onthat stuff. Ah--this is the place I've been looking for."
The old man's eyes had fallen upon another sign which read "Robe MakerBy Special Appointment to T. R. H. The King and The Queen."
"Here's the place, Mollie, where they make the King's clothes," he said."Now for it."
Hand in hand the three travellers entered the tailor's shop.
"How do you do, Mr. Snip," said the Unwiseman addressing the gentlemanlymanager of the shop whose name was on the sign without and whoapproached him as affably as though he were not himself the greatesttailor in the British Isles--for he couldn't have been the King's tailorif he had not been head and shoulders above all the rest. "I had a verypleasant little chat with his h. r. h. about you yesterday. I could seeby the fit of his red jacket that you were the best tailor in the world,and while he didn't say very much on the subject the King gave me tounderstand that you're pretty nearly all that you should be."
"Verry gracious of his Majesty I am sure," replied the tailor, washinghis hands in invisible soap, and bowing most courteously.
"Now the chances are," continued the Unwiseman, "that as soon as theKing receives a letter I wrote to him from Liverpool about how to stampout this horrible habit his subjects have of littering up the streetwith aitches, clogging traffic and overworking the Roberts picking 'emup, he'll ask me to settle down over here and be a Duke. Naturally Idon't want to disappoint him because I consider the King to be a mightynice man, but unless I can get a first-class Duke's costume----"
"We make a specialty of Ducal robes, your Grace," said the Tailor,manifesting a great deal of interest in his queer little customer.
"Hold on a minute," cried the Unwiseman. "Don't you call me that yet--Ishant be a grace until I've decided to accept. What does an A-1 Duke'sclothes cost?"
"You mean the full State----" began the Tailor.
"I come from New York State," said the Unwiseman. "Yes--I guess that'sit. New York's the fullest State in the Union. How much for a New YorkState Duke?"
"The State Robes will cost--um--let me see--I should think about fifteenhundred pounds, your Lordship," calculated the Tailor. "Of course it alldepends on the quality of the materials. Velvets are rawther expensivethese days."
Whistlebinkie gave a long low squeak of astonishment. Mollie gasped andthe Unwiseman turned very pale as he tremblingly repeated the figure.
"Fif-teen-hundred-pounds? Why," he added turning to Mollie, "I'd have tolive about seven thousand years to get the wear out of it at a dollar ayear."
"Yes, your Lordship--or more. It all depends upon how much gold yourLordship requires--" observed the Tailor.
"Seems to me I'd need about four barrels of it," said the Unwiseman, "topay a bill like that."
"We have made robes costing as high as 10,000 pounds," continued theTailor. "But they of course were of unusual magnificence--and forspecial jubilee celebrations you know."
"You haven't any ready made Duke's clothes on hand for less?" inquiredthe Unwiseman. "You know I'm not so awfully particular about the fit.My figure's a pretty good one, but after all I don't want to thrust iton people."
"We do not deal in ready made garments," said the Tailor coldly.
"Well I guess I'll have to give it up then," said the Unwiseman, "unlessyou know where I could hire a suit, or maybe buy one second-hand fromsome one of your customers who's going to get a new one."
"We do not do that kind of trade, sir," replied the Tailor, haughtily.
"Well say, Mr. Snip--ain't there anything else a chap can be made besidea Duke that ain't quite so dressy?" persisted the old gentleman. "Idon't want to disappoint Mr. King you know."
"Oh as for that," observed the Tailor, "there are ordinary peerages,baronetcies and the like. His Majesty might make you a Knight," he addedsarcastically.
"That sounds good," said the Unwiseman. "About what would a Knight gowncost me--made out of paper muslin or something that's a wee bit cheaperthan solid gold and velvet?"
This perfectly innocent and sincerely asked question was never answered,for Mr. Snip the Tailor made up his mind that the Unwiseman was guyinghim and acted accordingly.
"Jorrocks!" he cried haughtily to the office boy, a fresh looking ladwho had broken out all over in brass buttons. "Jorrocks, show this 'ereparty the door."
Whereupon Mr. Snip retired and Jorrocks with a wink at Whistlebinkieshowed the travellers out.
"Well did you ever!" ejaculated the Unwiseman. "You couldn't haveexpected any haughtier haughtiness than that from the King himself."
"He was pretty proud," said Mollie, with a smile, for to tell the truthshe had had all she could do all through the interview to keep fromgiggling.
"He was proud all right, but I didn't notice anything very pretty abouthim," said the Unwiseman. "I'm going to write to the King about boththose places, because I don't believe he knows what kind of people theyare with their bogus muffins and hoity-toity manners."
They walked solemnly along the street in the direction of the hotel.
"I won't even wait for the mail," said the Unwiseman. "I'll walk overto the Palace now and tell him. That tailor might turn some realimportant American out of his shop in the same way and then there'd be awar over it."
"O I wouldn't," said Mollie, who was always inclined towardpeace-making. "Wait and write him a letter."
"Send-im-a-wireless-smessage," whistled Whistlebinkie.
"Good idea!" said the Unwiseman. "That'll save postage and it'll get tothe King right away instead of having to be read first by one of hisSecretaries."
So it happened that that night the Unwiseman climbed up to the roof ofthe hotel and sent the following wireless telegram to the King:
MY DEAR MR. KING:
That tailor of yours seems to think he's a Grand Duke in disguise. In the first place he wanted me to pay over seven thousand dollars for a Duke's suit and when I asked him the price of a Knight-gown he told Jorrocks to show me the door, which I had already seen and hadn't asked to see again. He's a very imputinent tailor and if I were you I'd bounce him as we say in America. Furthermore they sell bogus muffins up at that specially appointed bake-shop of yours. I think you ought to know these things. Nations have gone to war for less.
Yours trooly, THE UNWISEMAN.
P.S. I've been thinking about that Duke proposition and I don't think I care to go into that business. Folks at home haven't as much use for 'em as they have for sour apples which you can make pie out of. So don't do anything further in the matter.
"There," said the Unwiseman as he tossed this message off into the air."That saves me $8.50 anyhow, and I guess it'll settle the business ofthose bogus muffin people and that high and mighty tailor."