A STRANGE WELCOME.
[Illustration: GOOD BYE!]
WE soon reached the Wallypug’s palace, which stood in a large park in
the center of the city of Why. I had been very interested in noticing
the curious architecture in the streets as we passed along, but was
scarcely prepared to find the palace such a very remarkable place. It
was a long, low, rambling building, built in a most singular style,
with all sorts of curious towers and gables at every point.
Oom Hi and the Kangaroo saw me as far as the entrance, and then took
their departure, saying that they would see me again another day, and I
walked up the stone steps, to what I imagined to be the principal door,
alone. To my great surprise, however, I found that, instead of being
the way in, it was nothing more or less than a huge jam-pot, with a
very large label on it marked “Strawberry Jam,” while above it were
the words, “When is a door not a door?” “When is a door not a door?” I
repeated, vaguely conscious of having heard the question before.
[Illustration: “SOLD AGAIN! SERVE YOU RIGHT!”]
“Ha—ha—ha,” laughed a mocking voice at the bottom of the steps, and
looking down I saw an enormous Cockatoo with a Paisley shawl over her
shoulders and walking with the aid of a crutched stick.
“Sold again, were you? Serve you right,” she cried. “When is a door not
a door? Pooh! fancy not knowing that old chestnut. Why! when it’s a
jar, of course, stupid. Bah!”
“It’s a very absurd practical joke, that’s all that I can say,” I
remarked, crossly, walking down the steps again. “Perhaps you can tell
me how I am going to get into this remarkable place.”
“Humph! Perhaps I can and perhaps I won’t,” said the Cockatoo. “I dare
say it’s a better place than you came from, anyhow. You’re not the
first man that has come down here with his superior airs and graces,
grumbling and finding fault with this, that, and the other; but we’ll
soon take the conceit out of you, I can tell you. Where’s your hat?”
This was the second creature that had asked me this question, and
really they threw so much scorn and contempt into the inquiry that one
would imagine that it was a most disgraceful offense to be without a
head covering.
I thought the most dignified thing to do under the circumstances was to
take no further notice of the bird, and was quietly walking away when
the Cockatoo screamed out again, “Where’s your hat? Where’s your hat?
Where’s your hat?” each time louder and louder, till the last inquiry
ended in a perfect shriek.
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” I cried. “I’ve left it at home, if you must
know.”
“Down with the hatters!” screamed the Cockatoo irrelevantly, “Down
with the Wallypug! Down with men without hats! Down with everybody and
everything!” and the wretched bird danced about like a demented fury.
At the sound of all this commotion a number of windows in the upper
stories of the palace were thrown open, and curious heads were popped
out to see what was the matter. Among them and immediately over my
head, I noticed the Doctor-in-Law.
“Oh! it’s you, is it, kicking up all this fuss?” he remarked as soon as
he recognized me.
“Well, really!” I replied, “I think you might have the politeness to
say ‘How do you do?’ considering that it is some months since we met.”
“Oh, do you indeed?” said the Doctor-in-Law, contemptuously. “Well,
supposing I don’t care one way or another. Where’s your hat?”
[Illustration: “DOWN WITH THE DOCTOR-IN-LAW.”]
Before I could answer the Cockatoo had screamed out “Down with the
Doctor-in-Law!” and the irate little man had replied by throwing a book
at her head out of the palace window.
[Illustration: “I saw his Majesty, the Wallypug himself, running across
the lawn towards me, with both hands stretched out in welcome.”—Page
35.
_Wallypugland._]
I was thoroughly disgusted at this behavior and at the strange
reception that I was receiving, and had fully determined to try and
find some way of getting home again, when, happening to turn round, I
saw his Majesty the Wallypug himself running across the lawn towards
me, with both hands stretched out in welcome, and his kind little face
beaming with good nature.
“How d’ye do? How d’ye do?” he cried. “So pleased to see you. Didn’t
expect you quite so soon, though. Come along—this way.” And his
Majesty led me to another entrance, and through a large square hall
hung with tapestry and many quaint pieces of old-fashioned armor, to a
door marked “His Majesty the Wallypug. Strictly private.” I noticed, in
passing, that the words, “His Majesty” had been partly painted out, and
“What cheek!” written above them. Once inside the door, the Wallypug
motioned me to a chair, and said, in a mysterious whisper,
“I’m _so_ glad you came before _she_ returned; there’s so much I want
to tell you.”
“Who do you mean?” I asked.
“Sh—Madame—er, my sister-in-law,” he replied, with a sigh.
“Your sister-in-law!” I exclaimed. “Why, I didn’t know you were
married.”
“Neither am I,” said his Majesty, with a puzzled frown. “That’s the
awkward part about it.”
“But how on earth can you possibly have a sister-in-law, unless you
have a wife or a married brother?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve never quite been able to understand _how_ they make it
out,” said the poor Wallypug, sorrowfully; “but I believe it is
something mixed up with the Deceased Wife’s Sister’s Bill, and the fact
that my uncle, The Grand Mochar of Gamboza, was married twice. Anyhow,
when I returned from London I found this lady, who _says_ that she
is my sister-in-law, established here in the palace; and—and—” his
Majesty sank his voice to a whisper, “she rules me with a rod of iron.”
I had no time to make further inquiries, for just then the door opened,
and a majestic-looking person sailed into the room, and after looking
me up and down with elevated eyebrows, pointed her finger at me, and
said, in a stern voice:
“And _who_ is this person, pray?”
“Oh, this,” said his Majesty, smiling nervously, and bringing me
forward, “is the gentleman who was so kind to us in London, you know.
Allow me to present him, Mr. Er—er——”
“I hope you have not been picking up any undesirable acquaintances,
Wallypug,” interrupted his Majesty’s Sister-in-Law severely. “I don’t
like the look of him at all.”
“I’m sorry, madame, that my appearance doesn’t please you,” I
interposed, feeling rather nettled; “perhaps under the circumstances I
had better——”
[Illustration: “I DON’T APPROVE OF YOU IN THE LEAST,” SAID THE
SISTER-IN-LAW.]
“You had better do as you are bid and speak when you are spoken to,”
remarked the lady grimly. “Where’s your hat?”
“I haven’t one,” I replied, rather abruptly, I am afraid, but I was
getting quite tired of this continual cross-questioning; “and really I
don’t see that it’s of the slightest consequence,” I ventured to add.
“Oh! don’t you,” said his Majesty’s Sister-in-Law, with a sarcastic
smile. “Well, that’s one of the _many_ points upon which we shall
disagree. Now, look here, I may tell you at once that I don’t approve
of you in the least; still, as you are here now you had better remain;
but mind, no putting on parts or giving yourself airs and graces, or
I shall have something to say to you. Do you understand?” And with a
severe glance at me, the lady folded her arms and stalked out of the
room, leaving his Majesty and myself staring blankly at one another.