BOB SCARLET'S GARDEN
Being in a garden full of flowers at Christmas-time is a very fine
thing; and Dorothy was looking about with great delight, and wondering
how it had all happened, when she suddenly caught sight of a big robin
walking along one of the paths, and examining the various plants with an
air of great interest. He was a very big robin, indeed--in fact, he was
about as large as a goose; and he had on a gardener's hat, and a bright
red waistcoat which he was wearing unbuttoned so as to give his fat
little chest plenty of room; but the most remarkable thing about him was
that he was walking about _with his hands in his waistcoat-pockets_.
Dorothy had never seen a robin do this before, and she was looking at
him in great astonishment, when he chanced to turn around to take a
particular look at a large flower, and she saw that he had two
caterpillars neatly embroidered on the back of his waistcoat so as to
form the letters B. S.
[Illustration: "HE WAS WALKING ABOUT WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS
WAISTCOAT-POCKETS."]
"Now I wonder what B. S. means," she said to herself with her usual
curiosity. "It _stands_ for Brown Sugar, but, of course, it can't be
that. Perhaps it means Best Suit, or Bird Superintendent, or--or--why
it must mean Bob Scarlet, to be sure!" and clapping her hands in the joy
of this discovery, she ran after the Robin to take a nearer look at him
and, if possible, to have a little conversation.
But Bob Scarlet proved to be a very difficult person to get near to.
Over and over again Dorothy caught sight of the top of his hat beyond a
hedge, or saw the red waistcoat through the bushes; but no matter how
quickly she stole around to the spot, he was always gone before she got
there, and she would see the hat or the waistcoat far away, in another
part of the garden, and would hurry after him only to be disappointed as
before. She was getting very tired of this, and was walking around
rather disconsolately, when she happened to look at one of the plants,
and discovered that little sunbonnets were growing on it in great
profusion, like white lilies; and this was such a delightful discovery,
and such an exceedingly interesting circumstance, that she instantly
forgot all about Bob Scarlet, and started away in great excitement to
examine the other plants.
[Illustration: "THERE WERE PLANTS LOADED DOWN WITH LITTLE PINAFORES, AND
SHRUBS WITH SMALL SHOES GROWING ALL OVER THEM."]
There was a great variety of them, and they all were of the same curious
character. Besides the bonnet-bush, there were plants loaded down with
little pinafores, and shrubs with small shoes growing all over them,
like peas, and delicate vines of thread with button-blossoms on them,
and, what particularly pleased Dorothy, a row of pots marked "FROCK
FLOWERS," and each containing a stalk with a crisp little frock growing
on it, like a big tulip upside down.
"They're only big enough for dolls," chattered Dorothy, as she hurried
from one to the other, "but, of course, they'll grow. I s'pose it's what
they call a nursery-garden. Just fancy--" she exclaimed, stopping short
and clasping her hands in a rapture,--"just fancy going out to pick an
apronful of delightful new stockings, or running out every day to see if
your best frock is ripe yet!" And I'm sure I don't know what she would
have said next, but just at this moment she caught sight of a paper
lying in the path before her, and, of course, immediately became
interested in _that_.
It was folded something like a lawyer's document, and was very neatly
marked in red ink "MEMORUMDRUMS"; and after looking at it curiously for
a moment, Dorothy said to herself, "It's prob'bly a wash-list; nothing
but two aprons, and four HDKeffs, and ten towels--there's always such a
_lot_ of towels, you know," and here she picked up the paper; but
instead of being a wash-list, she found it contained these verses:
Have Angleworms attractive homes?
Do Bumblebees have brains?
Do Caterpillars carry combs?
Do Dodos dote on drains?
Can Eels elude elastic earls?
Do Flatfish fish for flats?
Are Grigs agreeable to girls?
Do Hares have hunting-hats?
Do Ices make an Ibex ill?
Do Jackdaws jug their jam?
Do Kites kiss all the kids they kill?
Do Llamas live on lamb?
Will Moles molest a mounted mink?
Do Newts deny the news?
Are Oysters boisterous when they drink?
Do Parrots prowl in pews?
Do Quakers get their quills from Quails?
Do Rabbits rob on roads?
Are Snakes supposed to sneer at snails?
Do Tortoises tease toads?
Can Unicorns perform on horns?
Do Vipers value veal?
Do Weasels weep when fast asleep?
Can Xylophagans squeal?
Do Yaks in packs invite attacks?
Are Zebras full of zeal?
P. S. Shake well and recite every morning in a shady place.
"I don't believe a single one of them, and I never read such stuff!"
exclaimed Dorothy, indignantly; and she was just about to throw down
the paper when Bob Scarlet suddenly appeared, hurrying along the path,
and gazing anxiously from side to side as if he had lost something. As
he came upon Dorothy, he started violently, and said "Shoo!" with great
vehemence, and then, after staring at her a moment, added, "Oh, I beg
your pardon--I thought you were a cat. Have you seen anything of my
exercise?"
"Is this it?" said Dorothy, holding up the paper.
"That's it," said the Robin, in a tone of great satisfaction. "Shake it
hard, please."
Dorothy gave the paper a good shake, after which Bob Scarlet took it and
stuffed it into his waistcoat-pocket, remarking, "It has to be well
shaken before I take it, you know."
"Is that the prescription?" said Dorothy, beginning to laugh.
"No, it's the postscription," replied the Robin, very seriously; "but,
somehow, I never remember it till I come to it. I suppose it's put at
the end so that I won't forget it the next time. You see, it's about the
only exercise I have."
"I should think it was very good exercise," said Dorothy, trying to look
serious again.
"Oh, it's _good_ enough, what there is of it," said the Robin, in an
offhand way.
"But I'm sure there's _enough_ of it," said Dorothy.
"There _is_ enough of it, such as it is," replied the Robin.
"Such as it is?" repeated Dorothy, beginning to feel a little perplexed.
"Why, it's _hard_ enough, I'm sure. It's enough to drive a person quite
distracted."
"Well, it's a corker till you get used to it," said the Robin, strutting
about. "There's such a tremendous variety to it, you see, that it
exercises you all over at once."
This was so ridiculous that Dorothy laughed outright. "I should _never_
get used to it," she said. "I don't believe I know a single one of the
answers."
"_I_ do!" said Bob Scarlet, proudly; "I know 'em all. It's 'No' to
everything in it."
"Dear me!" said Dorothy, feeling quite provoked at herself, "of course
it is. I never thought of that."
"And when you can answer _them_," continued the Robin, with a very
important air, "you can answer anything."
Now, as the Robin said this, it suddenly occurred to Dorothy that she
had been lost for quite a long time, and that this was a good
opportunity for getting a little information, so she said very politely:
"Then I wish you'd please tell me where I am."
"Why, you're _here_," replied the Robin, promptly. "That's what _I_ call
an easy one."
"But _where_ is it?" said Dorothy.
"Where is _what_?" said the Robin, looking rather puzzled.
[Illustration: "'WHY, THE PLACE WHERE I AM,' SAID DOROTHY."]
"Why, the place where I am," said Dorothy.
"That's here, too," replied the Robin, and then, looking at her
suspiciously, he added, "Come--no chaffing, you know. I won't have it."
"But I'm _not_ chaffing," said Dorothy, beginning to feel a little
provoked; "it's only because you twist the things I say the wrong way."
"What do you say 'em the wrong way for, then?" said Bob Scarlet,
irritably. "Why don't you get 'em straight?"
"Dear me!" exclaimed Dorothy, now quite out of patience. "How dreadfully
confusing it all is! Don't you understand?--I only want to know where
the place is where I am now,--whereabouts in the geography, I mean," she
added in desperation.
"It isn't in there at all," said Bob Scarlet, very decidedly. "There
isn't a geography going that could hold on to it for five minutes."
"Do you mean that it isn't _anywhere_?" exclaimed Dorothy, beginning to
feel a little frightened.
"No, I don't," said Bob Scarlet, obstinately. "I mean that it is
anywhere--anywhere that it chooses to be, you know; only it doesn't
_stay_ anywhere any longer than it likes."
"Then I'm going away," said Dorothy, hastily. "I won't stay in such a
place."
"Well, you'd better be quick about it," said the Robin, with a chuckle,
"or there won't be any place to go away _from_. I can feel it beginning
to go now," and with this remark Bob Scarlet him self hurried away.
[Illustration: "DOROTHY STARTED OFF AT ONCE, AS FAST AS SHE COULD RUN."]
There was something so alarming in the idea of a place going away and
leaving her behind, that Dorothy started off at once, as fast as she
could run, and indeed she wasn't a moment too soon. The garden itself
was already beginning to be very much agitated, and the clothes on the
plants were folding themselves up in a fluttering sort of a way as she
ran past them; and she noticed, moreover, that the little shoes on the
shoe-shrub were so withered away that they looked like a lot of raisins.
But she had no time to stop and look at such things, and she ran on and
on until, to her delight, she came suddenly upon the little trap-door
where she had come up. There wasn't a minute to spare, and she jumped
down into the hole without so much as stopping to look back at the
vanishing garden, and hurried down the little stairway. It was as dark
as pitch, and as she ran down, going around and around, on the winding
stairs, she could hear them folding up behind her like the slats of a
blind; and she had just time to rush through the door at the bottom,
when the trunk of the tree flapped inward like an empty bag and then
shot up into the air.