Velvet hats
Lace hats
Silk hats with stremers
Lether hats
Straw hats some with flowrs and fethers
Bed hats of frills and bows
and all of these had its own privet box to be in and a lid that fitted
it. While as to the robes that her loving Harold streud on her no
tongue could tell for there was a high stepped lady all to themselves
that taurght them what to by and for when which is the worst to know
and the things piled up like greased litning till all the persons in
the shop left their jobs and all the people too and the boys that wizz
the lifts up and down too and all followed and stared to see so rich a
man prepar his fate. He topped it all by ordering gloves by boxfuls, a
fan as curly as a ostrich and under attire by wisper for his sweet,
which she went into a littel privet part to chose herself.
And they went out of that shop most exceeding grand dressed all in
new things scruffing their shoes on the floor to take the shiny off,
carrying parcels all eyes glaring upon them and left boxes and boxes
full to come on by Carter Pattisen.
“Taxi, sir?” asked the sarjent-looking man at the door bowing more low
than at first.
“Yes” gruntled Mr. Withersq as the strings of his parcels cut his
fingers a bit and he was sore tired.
A taxi swam up to the edge of the path and the man opened the door of
it and Selia nipped in and sank down in its interiaw.
“Where to?” said the driver, which made Mr. Withersq think twice
before he spoke that time.
Seeing his destress the sarjent-looking man wispered in his ear as a
sugestion: “why not the Grand Palace my good sir, it is very sentral.”
So Mr. Withersq got to the point at last and ordered the taxi to go
to the Grand Palace, which he did.
When they got there Mr. Withersq stumped into the hall as he had had
an idear.
“Trot me out the boss!” he cried to the trembling girl in the glass
desk there and she ran for him.
When he came he was fat and red.
“I am the manager” he utered.
“So?” said Mr. Withersq knowing well that would make him feel small.
“Well I am Mr. Withersq, my unckle Burt has left me many millions, I
have my lady Selia with me, I am the Head Poet of the Land and I wish
to rent your second and third floors all to myself one for me and one
for her, as only the best will do for us.”
“You want two whole floors?” spat the red manager.
“I do” said Mr. Withersq.
“But what of those who are within the floors?” said the manager who
was very afraid by now.
“Tell them I will foot their bills” replyed Mr. Withersq “and ask no
questions if they will get out.”
The red man turned pale now and ran away to do Mr. Withersquashes
bequest, and Mr. Withersq went to fech Selia and the band struck up in
the hall amongst the parms and sweet flowers, and the girl in the
glass desk bowed and so the pair proudly entered and went up the
stares to their apartments, and those who had been in the rooms before
went hurried down the back stairs, but it was no trouble to them as
they knew that they had made on the bargen.
After they had gone to their two floors and settled down and sent for
all their close, Selia called down the stairs to her Harold: “I say,
Squashy dear, lets go for a ride on a horse.”
“Why yes” said Mr. Withersq, “that is a very smart thing to do
indeed, I wonder we did not think of it before.”
So he rang the bell that was standing on a little tabel very handy in
the passage, and a dear little boy with three rows of beady butons all
up his coat came tripping to reply to it.
“Go out and buy me some breeches” ordered Mr. Withersq “my dear little
lad. And please get me two whips and a riding skirt for the lady. Be
quick back and you can keep the change.”
And he handed him a bag full of money.
Off tripped the little lad and shortly returned with boxes from a
nabouring shop. He had thoughtfully brought all that was the thing,
riding boots and hats and whips and gloves for two, and a pair of
breeches each, shaggy ones for Mr. Withersq and black for Selia with a
coat and skirt in one also to cover her up. They slipped into these
things and tossing the remains of the money to the boy they went out
and hired two horses and went for a ride in the park to get up an
appetite for tea after all they had eaten at the Majpottels. It
joggled them up a bit on the horses as all they had ever rode before
was at the fairs, still they stuck it and were stout of heart.
Just as they were coming out of the Park to go home a poleeceman stopt
them.
“Are you by way of being Mr. Withersquash?” he asked.
“Yes,” said our hero without quaking for he knew he had done no rong,
“what of it, eh?”
“A messej has just come from the Palace that his dear Magesty the King
would like you to slip in to tea and see him, as he wants to see what
sort of a new poet he has got.”
“Oh, all right,” said Mr. Withersq, “will it do if we go as we are,
and do you think I can take Selia too?”
“I expect it will be all right” said the poleeceman. “His Magesty is
very kind and nice, I dont think he would mind much.”
So they rode on their horses down to the Palace, and tied the reins on
to those twisty rails in front of it, and the guards in the hairy hats
nodded to them, and they went into the front yard and up to the door
and then in, as they knew they were expected.
Oh what an hour for Mr. Withersq and his Selia to step at last on that
envied spot.
“Littel did I think when we set out that we should go so far nor do so
well” uttered Mr. Withersq in a low tone from respect as they went
inside. Just then a junior admiral came stepping smartly to meet them.
“Ha good day dear Mr. Withersq” said he with a grin.
“Goodday indeed,” responded he. “Let me interduce Selia. Shake hands
Selia!” which she did.
“Pleased to meet you” said the admiral who was garbed in serge and
brade of purest gold. He then went on “Perhaps you’d like to tidy up a
bit before you go in to tea?”
“If its not troubling you” said Selia, who was a bit shattered in
looks after the horse.
“Certainly not” said the admiral kindly “we have a special place for
that sort of thing. When visiters come in on the hop as you have they
generally want a brush and washup by the time they arrive.”
“Yes traveling does make one so fussely, does not it” cried Selia in a
boomy tone which caused the admiral to open wide his admiring eyes as
he had no doubt thought she would be quite common and was glad to find
it was not so after all.
“Quite, quite” agreed he, adding “and I have sent to tell the guards
at the gate to be sure and give your horses some water and straw for
their tea so do not worry about them.”
“Oh they are not ours thanks all the same” said Mr. Withersq. “Still
you might as well have a drink sent out to them if you dont mind,
thanks.”
The admiral now led them to the place for the toilett and passed them
on to the persons there. It was a very vast hall complete with shaving
chairs with shavers in silk jackets who soon took Mr. Withersq and
wrapped him up in cloths and gave him a good scrape and Selia in turn
went to a marbel tabel where one damsel tidyed her hair kindly and
another gave her pouder and all those kinds of things and another
polished her nails nicely with pinka and wiped her boots over with a
velvet and when both were neat they returned to the admiral who was
waiting because that is what he was for. So he looked them over and
saw there was no hares on Mr. Withersquashes coat and everything as it
should be.
On he led them down passage after passage and through room after
room, and he let them have a peep in to where the best of the m.p.’s
were thinking out some new laws which interested them both very much.
And in the next room they had a squint at a lot of generals very
fierce of mustashe who were practising with swords and guns and
keeping their peckers up until the next war in that way because if
they dont they get livers and have to retire.
And next to them in another room were the sea lords, some of whom
waved very friendly to the conductor of our little party, but they
were not very busy at work as their time for swimming practise was
over for that day, and they were having the half day off, so ideled
the time with marveleous jig-saws and draufts and chesses and what
not, very cosy in their nice room.
At last they came to a very grand high passage all lined with flags of
conquered countries and a stuffed lion in a glass case on the left
just before a door, which was the door of the room where the King and
Queen were, at which both Selia and Harold began to tremble not a
little, for of all things they wanted to make a good impression.
“Have a heart” cried the admiral kindly, “they will not eat you, and
there is no fuss on purpose not to make you feel small as the King
well nose that it is a bit queer for a poet like you coming to see him
in his Palace for the first time.”
At that he gave a respecful tap on the door and departed.
They entered meekly into a great room with slippery floor, and in the
centre there was a tabel all heaped with flowers and set for about ten
and smothered in sweet foods, and at this tabel sat the King and her
dear Magesty the Queen was just pouring out tea. They had pushed back
their thrones to seem more at home and sat on simpel chairs, and the
Princess and the Princes were alas not there, so no doubt they were
elsewhere on business.
“I am Mr. Withersq” said our hero as he went in, holding Selia by the
hand and making a courtly bow, “and this is my lady Selia. We were out
riding and only just knew you wanted us so we came strait on.”
“That’s all right” said the King, getting up to push two more chairs
to the tabel for them. “We’re very glad to see you. Excuse us having
started but we didn’t know if you’d get here in time and we were dying
for a cup of tea.”
“Sit down, do,” said the Queen nicely, because she guest they would
not dare to sit unless told.
Now Selia found her tongue and said “It is so very good of you to let
me come in too, it will be a great help to me, and I have always so
wanted to see you, little dreaming I ever should when Ma and I used to
go to the pictures together and see you on the Pathe.”
“Really now?” said the Queen passing down two more cups of tea for
them, “very pleased to see you I’m sure at last. What is this they
tell me about your young man’s having done so well at poetry?”
So Selia told her all about how he came in for a good bit of money and
how they set out to get on in the world, and how Emilyon Boom had
turned up his nose, and how Mr. Withersq had got the prize as best
poet, and how now if only she could make a hit too they hoped shortly
to wed. And the Queen listened very nicely and promised that Emilyon
Boom should be punished and not allowed to write poems any more. All
this time Selia was getting plenty to eat too.
Meantime the King and Mr. Withersq were having a nice chat.
“Listen my dear” said the King to the Queen, “my Head Poet is telling
me that his young lady wants to make a hit and she is going to shew
the world what she can do in the way of sport. Now dont you think we
might go and see her, because that will be a help if the people know
we are going to be there, wont it? And I have taken a great liking to
these young people, and should like to see them happily married.”
“Certenly, certenly,” utered the Queen most kindly patting Selia’s
hand for a moment so that was setled and after a bit they got up to go
and happily remembered to go out through the door backwards and the
King waved his hand kindly as they did so to say goodbye, but the
Queen was busy ringing the bell for a maid to clear.
“I hope he thought I was all right as a poet” Mr. Withersq said
outside, “I suppose I shall often have to pop in and see him if he
keeps me on.”
Just then the King called “Hi!” from inside the room so they peeked in
again to see what it was.
“Oh I say! I quite forgot your medel” he said, laufing a good bit,
“here you are then and blessings on you.” It was a nice little medal
like tiny leaves in gold which is what the Head Poet wears so as
people know what he is altho’ you dont often see him. So they again
bowed and waved goodbye and came out and went back along all the
passages and so out into the yard and there the horses still were,
looking a bit fed up with waiting so long. And as they strode up to
them a very good thing happened, because a photo man from the
newspapers came up and took their photos which is fame indeed.
“What luck” cried Selia gayly as they rode away, “it was indeed a
good idear to go to the poetry school was it not! see how you have got
on!”
“Yes, I think we are getting on all right” he replyed for of a truth
he had learnt by now that it is only the first step that hurts.