AT THE EXHIBITION.
"I shan't be able to go," said John James, "and there's an end of it.
Ugh! It's disgusting!"
"What's the matter with you?" asked Gladys.
The Golliwog knitted up his forehead, slid carefully off the table,
and sitting in one chair, put his feet in another.
"It's my leg," he said at last, nearly twisting his nose off with the
grimaces he made.
"Well," said Gladys impatiently, "what about it? I can't see
anything the matter with it."
"I've got a _bone_ in it," said the Golliwog impressively, "and the
fact is, I can't go to the Exhibition."
"Oh, dear, you poor old thing!" cried Gladys; "couldn't Freda and
Tommy and I go without you! Then you could rest your poor leg, and
perhaps the bone will come out."
"Well," said John James rather doubtfully, "will you promise to
remember all the really important things?"
"Of course!" said Gladys, tossing her head; "and I daresay if I
forget anything Tommy and Freda--why, there they are! Now we can
tell them about it."
"Tell us what?" asked Tommy.
"Why, that John James has a bone in his leg, and we three are to go
without him to the Teddio-Golliwog Exhibition."
"And represent _The Golliwog News_," put in John James, getting out
his card case, and handing a card to Tommy, telling him at the same
time to present it at the gate of the Exhibition, or whenever he had
the least difficulty, and all would be well.
"I want to see the knick-knacks," began Freda, but John James
interrupted.
"You'll have to go by the G. and T.B. Underground. I'll show you the
way," and he climbed out of the window and let himself down by the
water-shoot.
The three children followed him; they were not a bit afraid, and all
of them alighted exactly in front of the black telegraph pole. It
was zuzzing even then, and had a peculiar tarry smell. John James
put his ear to it and listened.
"It's all right," he said. Then he looked up at the wires overhead,
and repeated this rhyme:
"_Little Key, Little Key.
Won't you tumble down to me?_"
The next minute a little golden key with a diamond in it dropped
right at their feet.
John James picked it up, fitted it into the pole, turned it, and a
tiny door flew open, showing a flight of iron steps inside, and a
board slanting downwards, which said:
THIS WAY TO THE G.& T.B. UNDERGROUND.
"There you are," said the Golliwog. "In you go. Mind you bring back
all the news. Here's the Key. Take care of it."
He flung it down the steps after them, banged the door, and left them
to find their way in the dark.
"How horrid of him!" said Gladys. "I suppose it's the bone in his
leg. Jane gets it sometimes, and she's always cross then. Isn't it
dark? We shall never find that Key."
"_Yes, you will, if you walk with care,
It's lying now on the middle stair,_"
said a voice, a very soft gentle voice too.
"Who's that?" said Gladys. "Freda where are you? Tommy, I can't see
anything."
"_Oh, never fear
For I am still here,_"
continued the soft voice:
"_And when we come to the middle stair
I will remind you to pause just there._"
"Thank you very much, I'm sure," said poor Gladys, but she really was
horribly frightened. She could hear Freda and Tommy talking and
laughing below her, and the hand that held hers was such a very
strange stiff hand. The soft voice was strange too. It was not only
that it spoke in rhyme, but it shot out the words in sudden jerks, as
if someone were pushing the speaker from behind.
"_The step at last,
Hold the Key fast,_"
said the voice again.
Gladys felt her foot grate against the Key, so she stooped and picked
it up.
"_Here we are at the Underground,
I hope that the Key is safe and sound,_"
said her companion.
"How she does keep on," muttered Gladys crossly, as she tied the Key
in a corner of her handkerchief. Then as they stepped out on to a
brilliantly lighted platform, Gladys turned to see who it was,
holding her so firmly by the hand. And, would you believe it--the
owner of the soft voice was a Wooden Doll?
She had a sensible face, with a little bit of colour on each cheek,
and a quantity of black hair smoothed over her ears. She wore a neat
little bonnet, a nicely starched print dress, and she carried a brown
basket with a packet of sandwiches done up in white paper.
Before Gladys could speak, Tommy and Freda rushed up, asking where
ever she had been.
"Get into the train--get in--do get in!" shouted a funny little
Golliwog guard, rushing up and waving a green flag.
He bundled the children in first, then popped the Wooden Doll into
her basket with the sandwiches, and put her up in the rack, which was
provided for light articles only. Then he slammed the door, and the
train started.
"Do help that poor lady down!" began Gladys, but the Doll seemed
quite unmoved by such strange treatment. She stepped out of the
basket, slid down the window curtain, and sat herself by Freda with
her well starched skirts crackling.
During the journey she confided to the children that her name was
Selina Starchup, and that she was going to meet her husband at the
Exhibition.
"We are going to represent _The Golliwog News_," said Tommy,
producing John James' card.
The Wooden Doll's rosy face went quite white.
"_I should not thus have calmly sat
If I had even dreamed of that!_"
she gasped.
Then speaking very faintly and breathlessly, she told them that her
husband, who was well acquainted with the newspaper world, thought
_The Golliwog News_ the most wonderful, and by far the most literary
production in Golliwog Land.
She added that on one occasion her husband had actually sat near the
Editor, and considered it the greatest honour of his life that so
important a personage had actually spoken to him, and had
condescended to accept an acid drop.
She was so excited that when the train began to slow up she could
hardly wait for it to stop. She hung out of the window, waving her
basket so wildly that the neat little packet of sandwiches would have
toppled out, and fallen under the train, had not a very fat,
good-tempered looking Doll rushed up and caught it in both hands.
"Caught out!" cried the new-comer joyously. "Hullo, Selina! Come
along, my dear. The Exhibition is going full swing. Are these young
people coming with you?"
The "young people" stared, for the wooden lady's husband was the very
identical Fat Doll who had taken his collar off at the Dolls'
Parliament, and said "Papa" and "Mamma."
"_Hush, my dear!
Your ways are so queer,_"
said his wife reprovingly, and then she told him that Gladys, Tommy,
and Freda had come to the Exhibition to represent _The Golliwog News_.
The Fat Doll jumped off his feet, he was so much surprised, and when
he came down again, he was some distance along the platform, where he
was joined by a tall thin gentleman who carried a Gladstone Bag.
These two engaged in a very earnest conversation for some minutes and
then approached the children.
"Allow me to shake hands," cried the new comer. "You must--you
really must! I'll take no refusal."
The little girls shook hands with him, but they could not help
giggling. Tommy burst out laughing, a real ringing schoolboy laugh,
that made the other passengers on the platform look round to see what
it was all about. The Fat Doll seemed puzzled, for he began feeling
round Tommy's waistcoat to see whether he had a string anywhere that
could be pulled to make him laugh again.
He fumbled and tickled Tommy so much that lie literally shrieked and
rolled with laughter.
"I say--that's enough!" he cried. "Let me alone. Oh, let go!--do!"
The Fat Doll looked at Tommy thoughtfully.
"It's not a string," he cried. "It must be one of those which you
press. I suppose I touched the spring by accident. It's a very good
contrivance, any way."
While this was going on the tall thin gentleman had stood by, his
eyes twinkling with delight.
"I'm out for the day," he cried merrily as the little party moved on.
"Business is very slack just now. So I'm taking a holiday."
"You look as if you needed it," said Gladys. "You are so very thin.
You must work very hard, I fancy. What do you do for your living?"
"I'm only a poor Dustman," he answered jovially, swinging his bag
round and round.
"Nonsense!" cried the children in chorus, laughing heartily. "You
don't look a bit like a Dustman."
"Are you a comic entertainer, sir?" asked Tommy. "I should think you
would be a splendid one."
"And all the children like you, don't they?" ventured little Freda,
who had taken such a fancy to him that she was hanging on to his arm
and looking up into his face.
The Dustman's eyes twinkled.
"Well--no," he admitted. "I'm not a great favourite, though if they
only knew it I'm a very good friend to them, and save them from all
kinds of unpleasant things. It's the grown-ups who feel glad when I
put in an appearance. But don't let us talk about that, I'm out for
the day, and I want to have a good time. Here we are at the gate."
Mr. and Mrs. Starchup had already passed through the turnstile. The
Dustman appeared to have a season ticket, for he simply nodded to the
gate-keeper, and passed in.
Tommy produced his press card, and the children were all amused to
see the look of amazement, mingled with awe, which overspread the
gate-keeper's face when he read the magic words--_The Golliwog News_.
"Do you want an escort, sir?" he asked Tommy very politely.
"Oh, no,--no!" cried the Dustman. "I'll show them everything worth
seeing before my business hours commence," and he hurried them away.
"I must remember to tell John James how the gate-keeper stared," said
Gladys as they went along, and the words were scarcely out of her
mouth, before a cat, without a tail, came prancing along on his hind
legs, waving something in his paw. He had a tray attached to his
neck by a strap, and went about so fast that the tray kept swinging
round and hitting him in the back.
"Ha'penny a packet!" he cried. "A penny the half-dozen," he said,
stopping in front of Gladys.
"What is it?" she asked, feeling for a halfpenny.
"Memory Powder," said the cat. "Highly recommended. Sole
proprietor. Hundreds of unsolicited testimonials," he continued,
thrusting a packet into Gladys' hand, and rushing off to meet a party
of Toy Monkeys who had just arrived in a char-a-banc.
"My memory is so bad," began Gladys, "and Jane has said so often that
I ought to get some memory powder. I wonder----"
She forgot what she was going to say, for just then they overtook
Selina and her husband, standing arm in arm looking at the
Jolly-Woggle.
The Jolly-Woggle was a gigantic see-saw, which woggled in a very
peculiar way, and made everybody feel jolly. The Dustman told the
children that it was recommended by all the doctors in Golliwog Land
as a splendid remedy for nervous ailments.
"Going on?" cried the Fat Doll.
"Rather! What do you think?" replied the Dustman, and so when the
see-saw stopped, they all climbed on, Mr. and Mrs. Starchup on one
side, and the children and the Dustman on the other.
It was very amusing to watch Selina when the thing began to woggle.
She tried so hard to sit upright and look dignified, and to keep her
basket properly balanced. The Fat Doll bounced up and down like a
Jack-in-the-Box, and several times the children heard faint cries of
"Papa" and "Mamma" as they joggled to and fro.
Freda and Gladys clung to the Dustman like leeches, and even Tommy
was glad to lay hold of his coat tails, the Jolly-Woggle did woggle
so dreadfully. But they enjoyed it very much, and were quite sorry
when it came to a stand still, and they had to get off, because all
the animals from a Noah's Ark were waiting impatiently to get on.
"How John James would have enjoyed that!" said Gladys, as they walked
on.
"I do wonder how the bone in his poor leg is getting on."
"Oh, all right, I expect," said Tommy. "Aren't we going to see the
Knick-Knacks?"
"Of course we are," said the Dustman and the Fat Doll both together.
"Jane says she can't bear knick-knacks," began Gladys doubtfully,
looking up at the narrow building, with a perplexed expression on her
face.
"Nasty dust-traps, she calls them. Do you think we ought to go?"
"Bother Jane!" said Tommy. "Of course we're going."
He opened the glass door, and the Dustman, with Freda still clinging
to his arm, went in. Gladys followed, then the Fat Doll and his
wife, who nearly got squeezed to death trying to walk in arm in arm,
and last of all, Tommy himself entered.
Each knick-knack was in a separate room with its name over the
entrance.
The first was:
A STITCH IN TIME.
"I've heard that before," said Gladys. "I think it was Jane who said
it. I don't want to see it very much."
"Nonsense!" said Tommy. "No one can make you do any mending to-day.
Look! There's someone who ought to go in," he added, pointing to a
very ragged Doll.
"She is going in," said the Dustman, and so they all trooped behind
her.
In the middle of the floor there was an arm-chair, and Father Time
sat in it. They knew who he was, because he held an hour glass in
one hand and a scythe in the other, and looked so very old.
The old fellow smiled and nodded to the Dustman, and asked him to
give the hourglass a shake on the quiet, for the sand seemed running
very slowly, and he wanted his dinner.
Of course, the Dustman contrived to do as he was asked, and no one
but the children saw him, for the Fat Doll and Selina were examining
the scythe, and the Ragged Dollie was calling for a needle at the top
of her voice.
Presently a neat little Teddy in a white apron and a cap brought her
a needle threaded with black cotton, and she then walked up to Father
Time and put a large stitch in his waistcoat.
"What is she doing that for?" whispered Gladys to Selina.
"_Just look again
And all will be plain,_"
whispered back the Wooden Doll.
The stitches flew in and out on Father Time's coat, and as if by
magic, for every stitch she made, nine neat little stitches appeared
in her own ragged garments. In a very short time she began to look
quite a Smart Doll, very different from the disreputable creature she
had seemed on first entering the place.
She smiled amiably at the children, but they did not like her, for as
she was going out she made a grimace at the Dustman, who only shook
his bag at her, and grinned.
Father Time was getting irritable.
"I can hear the rattling of the plates," he said. "I want my dinner."
The children left hastily, in search of the next Knick-Knack, which
was an ancient instrument known as:
THE SECOND FIDDLE.
It was kept on a white satin cushion, and covered with a glass case,
and the Toy Elephant in charge of it told them it was the greatest
curiosity at the Exhibition.
"But why?" asked Tommy. "It looks quite ordinary to me, only rather
old and fusty."
"It is so exceedingly wonderful," said the Elephant, slowly and
patiently, looking at Tommy over the top of his spectacles, "because
no one has ever been able to play it."
"Has anyone ever tried?" asked the Fat Doll, nudging Tommy in the
ribs, hoping to make him laugh.
"Of _course_ not!" replied the Elephant indignantly, polishing up the
glass case with a chamois leather. "I guard it, sir, most vigilantly
all day, and at night I sleep with it locked up in my trunk. And _no
one_, sir, ever _will_ be able to play it!"
Tommy laughed loudly, which was what the Fat Doll wanted. Freda and
the Dustman laughed too, and even Selina giggled in a perfectly
lady-like manner, but Gladys did not smile.
"I remember Jane once said----" she began, but Tommy turned round and
looked at her.
"Look here, Gladys, why on earth must you remember every disagreeable
thing your Jane ever said?"
"I'm sure I don't know," she replied, "I'm generally so forgetful,
too."
"Why it's the memory powder!" cried the Dustman. "We ought not to
have let her buy it."
"Give it to me," said Tommy, and seizing the packet he went to a
window and threw it out as far as he could.
The children then passed on to the next room over which they saw the
mysterious words:
THE LITTLE PITCHERS.
These Little Pitchers stood in a row against the wall. They were ten
in number, and their ears were very long; but in spite of this, a
cross-faced Golliwog was walking round them, pulling their ears to
make them grow longer still.
"Doesn't it hurt?" said Gladys, to the smallest of the Little
Pitchers.
"Hurt?" replied the poor little thing. "Rather! I should just think
it does."
"But how did your ears get long to start with?" asked Tommy curiously.
"Well"--the Little Pitcher looked rather ashamed--"I used to listen
about at doors, when grown-up people were talking, and er--er--my
ears began to grow, and they have been getting longer ever since.
It's awful. I can hear the flies walking about on the ceiling. The
smallest sound seems like thunder. That bluebottle fly on the wall
over there, can't you hear him? He's stamping along, like--Old
Boots!--Oh, there he is!"
The Little Pitcher shut his eyes, and put a tea cosy over both ears
and would not speak any more.
The children looked round to see what could have upset him, and they
saw coming towards them on tiptoe the strangest little old person you
ever imagined.
"My name is Boots," he remarked in a thin piping voice, "and I am
usually known as Old Boots."
"Are you a real person?" asked Freda. "Dad often says he has been
working like Old Boots. Was that you?"
"It was," said the old gentleman looking very pleased with himself.
"Some people fight like Old Boots, or hurry like Old Boots----"
"Or _squeak_ like Old Boots," added the Dustman slyly, and at this
our merry little party laughed again, and the Fat Doll turned a
somersault.
But the old man went off offended, piping to himself, like--just like
Old Boots!
"Now," said the Dustman, picking up his Gladstone Bag. It's six
o'clock. I have just one hour left before I start business again, so
we'd better all go and have some tea, and then we might have a look
round the Magic Corridor."
Off they went to a celebrated tea house called "The Lions' Share."
It was kept by a large family of Toy Lions. They were very obliging
creatures, and if you wanted anything, and could not catch the
waiter's eye, all you had to do was to pull his tail, and he brought
you whatever you happened to fancy.
Tea being over--and a very merry meal it was--our friends went to the
Magic Corridor, where they found a most fascinating automatic machine.
All you did--as the Dustman explained--was to peep in, turn the
handle, and think of an absent friend, when immediately you saw in
the machine an animated picture, which told you what the friend was
doing at that precise moment.
"I should like to look in first," said Gladys, "because I do so badly
want to know what John James is doing, and how the bone in his leg is
getting on."
And seizing the handle, she peered through the glass.
"Can you see him?" asked Freda.
"Ye-es," said Gladys after a pause; then she added: "He is writing at
the nursery table. He seems to have a huge pile of letters beside
him. What can he be doing?"
"Oh, now he has finished them, and is stretching his back. Poor old
thing! I expect it aches. Ah, now he is sticking down the
envelopes. Oh, my! What a pile! And now, if he isn't even running
to the pillar box. Running ever so fast----"
Gladys turned the handle very quickly.
"And he told me he had a bone in his leg! It must have been a story.
Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shall go home this very minute and see----"
She dropped the handle, and ran down the Magic Corridor, with Tommy
and Freda at her heels. On--on--till they reached the G. & T.B.
Underground.
"Well, I must be off," said the Dustman, shouldering his Gladstone
Bag, and he too hurried away.
"Look!" said the Fat Doll, as he and his thin wife walked leisurely
down the Corridor. "The little lady has dropped something."
The "something" was a handkerchief. He picked it up, and was putting
it in his pocket when a small round object fell out, with a slight
clatter.
It was the Magic Key!