THE BLUE-GUM POLICEMAN
"He's hiding somewhere," whispered the King. "Look out, everybody, or
he'll be jumping out suddenly!"
At this suggestion, all the court ladies, with delicate squeals, jumped
upon the marble-topped tables and held their petticoats tight around
them, while the policeman and the Court Crier and the Admiral and the
courtiers ran up and down, peeping under the chairs and behind the
bushes and flower-pots in search of Thomas A'Becket.
Meanwhile, Margaret and Frances and Coco Bolo--the little Coco Bolos
having been sent back to the nursery--went and sat down on the throne
to rest, perceiving which, the Archbishop, thinking he would like to
sit down, too, advanced towards them, dragging a chair behind him.
At this moment, Periwinkle, who, as usual, was the last to arrive, came
running to jump into Frances' lap, when, passing in front of the King's
seat, he suddenly stopped and began to growl.
"What are _you_ growling at?" asked Coco Bolo; and leaning forward, he
peeped under the throne, when out bounced Thomas A'Becket right under
his nose!
"There he goes!" cried the King, and springing out of his seat, he gave
chase.
At the same moment, the Archbishop, letting go his chair, rushed
forward, when, as neither of them looked where he was going, they
banged their heads together and went over backwards on the grass, where
they both sat with their feet straight out in front of them, staring
blankly at each other.
The shock of the collision knocked off the Archbishop's mitre and sent
it rolling along the ground right in front of Thomas A'Becket, who,
seeing what a good hiding-place it would make, popped into it and
curled himself up inside.
It was all done so quickly that nobody noticed what had become of the
cat except the two little girls, who, jumping down from their seats,
ran and picked up the mitre With Thomas A'Becket inside it. Tying the
strings together, they carried it between them to the throne and there
hung it up on the highest of the gold-knobs at the back of the King's
seat.
"Keep quiet, Thomas A'Becket," whispered Margaret, standing on tiptoe
on the arm of the seat and peeping into the mitre. "Keep quiet, and
you'll be all safe."
"Pur-r-r!" replied Thomas A'Becket, who was really a very nice cat when
he was treated with proper respect.
Margaret and Frances then jumped down again, and running to where the
King and the Archbishop still sat on the grass, rubbing their heads and
staring at each other, they stretched out their hands and pulled them
both to their feet again.
"Where's my mitre?" asked the Archbishop, looking all about on the
ground. "Oh, it's up there, is it? Did _you_ hang it up? Thank you,
ever so much. I'm glad to be rid of it: it's precious heavy and
uncomfortable."
"Mitres and crowns _are_ heavy," assented Coco Bolo. "That's the worst
of being somebody of importance. But it's no reason why we shouldn't
have some refreshment, all the same. So, sit down here at this table,
and we'll all have some cookies and aëro-plane water."
"Thank you," said Margaret. "But, if you don't mind, we should like
some milk instead. We're a little afraid of the aëro-plane water."
"Very well," said the King, graciously. "And here's a saucerful for
Periwinkle. If that foolish cat had only behaved himself he might have
had some, too."
"Mi-ow!" said Thomas A'Becket in a plaintive tone, his voice sounding
so muffled and indistinct that neither the King nor the Archbishop
could tell which direction it came from. They both jumped up and looked
under their chairs, but, of course, there was no cat there, so they sat
down again.
They had hardly settled themselves in their chairs once more, when the
policeman and the Court Crier and the Admiral and the courtiers all
came back to say that Thomas A'Becket could not be found.
"What's to be done, then?" asked the King. "What's the law in the case,
Policeman?"
"How should I know?" asked the policeman.
"Why, that's your business. You're the guardian of the law, aren't you?"
"I suppose I am," replied the policeman. "But if there are only two
laws to guard, and if neither of them fits the case, what are you going
to do?"
"Why! Make one that will fit, of course," retorted His Majesty. "Anyone
but a blue-gum policeman would know that!"
"Oh, very well, then," said the blue-gum policeman; and straightening
himself up, he announced in a loud voice: "Law number three: Any
Archbishop whose cat swears in public shall be put in the corner and
painted blue."
"That's rubbish," said Margaret. "It wasn't the Archbishop's fault."
"No," added Frances. "And I don't think it's fair to punish a cat or an
archbishop either for breaking laws they never heard of--especially a
law that was not made till afterwards."
"Sorry," replied the King, with a shake of his head, "but it can't be
helped. I'd be glad to let him off, but the law's the law, you know.
It makes me weep, Archbishop"--here the King paused and winked at the
Court Crier, who hastily snatched a pocket handkerchief out of his
caddy-box and shed one tear--"It makes me weep, as you see, Archbishop,
but I'm afraid you'll have to be painted blue."
"Blue paint! Blue paint!" shouted all the courtiers.
"Look here!" cried the Archbishop, rising from his chair and rapping
his knuckles on the table. "How can anyone think with such a racket
going on? Look here, Coco Bolo!" he continued, when the noise had
subsided. "This new policeman of yours has never had any lessons in
painting, has he? Well, I object to having any brand-new, blue-gum
policeman trying experiments on _me_. I'm the Archbishop of
Timbuctoo-and-a-half, am I not? Well--Gracious, goodness!--whoever
heard of an archbishop being painted by any but a first-rate artist?
It's ridiculous! Perfectly ridiculous! If you want your policeman to
practice on somebody, let him practice on the cat. Thomas A'Becket is
the one who broke the law first--well, then, paint Thomas A'Becket
first!"
This sounded so much like good sense that Margaret and Frances clapped
their hands; whereupon, all the courtiers, who had just opened their
mouths to shout, "Blue paint!" again, changed their minds and clapped
their hands instead.
As for Coco Bolo, he looked puzzled. He tilted his crown over his eye
while he scratched his head, and then of a sudden he set it straight
again, and jumping out of his chair, he cried:
"I'll tell you what! Look here! Thomas A'Becket is hiding somewhere
close by, because we heard him mew just now; so, this is what we'll do.
We'll lay a trap for him. We'll set out a saucer of milk on the table
and then we'll all go and hide in the bushes and wait for him to come
out."
It was a pretty good idea--considering what a thick and solid head the
King had, it was a very good idea.
The saucer was filled, when everybody went tiptoing away; Margaret and
Frances and Coco Bolo and the Archbishop going and hiding behind the
throne.
All was silent, when the little girls, peeping round the end of the
throne, saw Thomas A'Becket climb out of the mitre, jump down upon the
seat and go walking across the lawn towards the table.
"Look out, Thomas!" whispered Margaret. "Look out, or they'll catch
you!"
The old cat turned his head and shut one eye, as much as to say, "Don't
you worry," and walked on, until, having reached the table, he jumped
upon it, and settling himself comfortably with his fore-paws tucked
under his chest, he began lapping up the milk.
Two seconds later, out from behind a bush stepped the blue-gum
policeman, butterfly net, paint-pot and all, while from behind every
other bush and flower-pot came all the courtiers, with their shoulders
up to their ears and their elbows stuck out, walking on tiptoe towards
the table.
"Come on, now, and see the fun," whispered Coco Bolo, leading the way
round to the front of the throne, where they all stood watching and
waiting to see what was to happen next.
The policeman and the courtiers had crept up close to the table; the
former already had his butterfly net extended at arm's length to
clap it down over Thomas A'Becket; it seemed as though the cat would
surely be caught this time, when suddenly a brilliant idea popped into
Margaret's head. Jumping into the seat of the throne, she clapped her
hands to her mouth and shouted:
"DINNER!"
It was like magic! Thomas A'Becket was completely forgotten in an
instant. The whole company, policeman and all, with the Admiral behind
them, went racing up the center pathway to the dining-hall; while the
jovial little King--who really had no desire to see Thomas A'Becket
painted blue--the King, in ecstasies at the success of the trick, flung
his crown upon the grass, and went stamping about, laughing so hard
that the tears ran out of his eyes.
"Run, now!" he cried, as soon as he could get his breath. "Run,
Archbishop, and get aboard your raft! The door is locked up there and
they'll all be back in a minute."
"Here's your hat, Archbishop," said Margaret, springing upon the arm
of the throne and reaching down the mitre. "And, if you don't mind, I
think we'll come with you. It's time for us to go, anyhow."
"I think you had better," agreed the King. "There's no accounting for
a blue-gum policeman: he might be wanting to paint _you_ next. So, if
I were you, I'd take passage on the Archbishop's raft and skip out at
once. Sorry to have you go, but I think you'd better. See! here they
come! Good-bye!"--shaking hands hastily--"Good-bye. Call again!"
In fact, having discovered, by the simple process of banging their
noses against it, that the door was locked, the courtiers had all
turned round, and shouting, "Blue paint! Blue paint!" with all their
spare breath, were racing down the pathway again, when Margaret and
Frances and the Archbishop, followed by Periwinkle and Thomas A'Becket,
set off running for the pier.
Leaping aboard the raft, they untied it, spread the sail, and amid the
shouting of the courtiers, the ringing of the Court Crier's bell, the
bellowing of the snap-dragon and the barking of the dog-fish, away they
sailed and soon were lost to sight in the cloud-wall.
On they went, softly sailing along through the mist, expecting every
moment to come out on the other side. But the cloud-wall must have
been ever so much thicker than it was when they arrived, for they kept
sailing on and on and on, long after the last of the dog-fish had
ceased to bark and long after the dragon had given up bellowing.
It was easy, slow, drowsy sort of travelling, and presently Frances,
stifling a yawn with difficulty, remarked:
"I feel rather tired. I think I'll sit down a bit and rest."
"I think I will, too," responded Margaret, covering her mouth with both
hands.
"So will I," added the Archbishop, with a yawn so tremendous that he
had to hold his mitre in front of his face to hide it.
Down they sat, therefore, with their backs against the mast, and as was
to be expected, in two seconds they were all sound asleep--Periwinkle
and Thomas A'Becket as well.
How long they had been sailing, the children never could tell, when
suddenly, "_Clink-clank!_" went the Court Crier's bell, somewhere close
by.
Margaret woke up with a start, clutching her sister by the arm, and
then for several seconds she stared about her, wondering where she was.
Nor was it surprising that she should sit and stare, for, when at
length she did recognize her surroundings, she found herself beneath
the trees by the sea-shore where she and Frances had lain down to rest
after their vain pursuit of their shadows that morning.
[Illustration: _Nor was it surprising that she should sit and stare_]
There, too, sat Frances, bolt upright, blinking and gazing about her in
a bewildered manner; and there too, lay Periwinkle, flat on his side,
his beady black eyes wide open and his red worsted smile fixed and
immovable--a yellow plush puppy once more.
Again the bell sounded. Margaret looked hastily behind her, and there
was old Daphne, the milk-cow, quietly feeding, the bell about her neck
going "_Clink-clank_," at every motion.
At the same moment, from far across the ocean came a melancholy
"Hoo-oo! Hoo-oo!"
"Hark, Frances! Hark!" cried Margaret. "Did you hear it? There's the
poor old dragon bellowing. Somebody else must have arrived. Oh, what
an adventure we've had! Come along! Let's run home and tell Daddy!
Won't he be glad to hear that there _is_ a King Coco Bolo and a Great
American Snap-Dragon and an Archbishop and a Floating Island and
everything!"
"Won't he!" said Frances, as they set off homeward hand in hand.
Transcriber's note
Obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected.
Hyphenation has been used inconsistently. The text here matches
the original.
Blank pages adjacent to illustrations and their page numbers have been
removed.
Emphasised text is marked thus:
_italics_
=bold=