“GOOD FOR THE COMPLEXION.”
THE Crow had scarcely left the room when there was another knock, and
without waiting for a reply the Cockatoo burst into the room in a fine
fluster. She was followed by the Kangaroo and Oom Hi.
“Look at them! _Look at them!_” she blurted out, “did you ever see such
objects in all your life. What a color!”
“Hm! Eggshell blue,” said the Kangaroo, examining the Wallypug
critically. “Very extraordinary tint. Never seen a face that shade
before.”
“The other one is worse,” declared the Cockatoo, pointing at me
derisively. “I always knew he was something disreputable. I believe,”
she added, sinking her voice into a hoarse whisper, “I believe he has
let himself out as an advertisement for Stephen’s Blue-black Ink, or
Ricket’s Paris Blue. What depravity. Down with him! Duck him in the
pond! Scrub him with sandpaper! Boil him!” and so she went on.
“What’s all this bother about?” I exclaimed. “Don’t you see that his
Majesty is engaged. If you don’t immediately go about your business I
will have you put out of the room.”
“Oh! will you indeed,” exclaimed the Cockatoo excitedly, “I should like
to see you attempt it. It strikes me that _you_ are the one that will
be put out. We can stand a good deal down here, but a hatless object
with a _blue_ face. Ough!”
“Here, come and do your duty,” she shouted, going to the door, and the
two Crocodiles entered and caught hold of me roughly by the collar.
“Bring them out into the courtyard,” shouted the infuriated bird, and
before I could protest I was bundled unceremoniously out of the house
by the Crocodiles, the Kangaroo and Oom Hi following with the Wallypug.
[Illustration: “Ough! ough!” spluttered his Majesty. “You’re putting it
all in my eyes. Oh, ach! do-o-n’t! Stop! I say, _do_ leave off.”—Page
167.
_Wallypugland._]
“Now then,” said the Cockatoo, stopping before a large tub of water
which stood on the ground, “see what soap and water will do.”
The Kangaroo rummaged about and discovered a small hard piece of yellow
soap, and Oom Hi brought forth a good sized sponge, and together they
gave the poor little Wallypug such a scrubbing as I should think he had
never had before in all his life.
“Ough! ough!” spluttered his Majesty. “You’re putting it all in my
eyes. Oh, ach! do-o-on’t! Stop! I say, _do_ leave off. Ough!”
The poor little fellow was nearly choked.
Oom Hi sponged the soap away and the Cockatoo stared critically at the
poor Wallypug, who stood there with the water streaming from his face
and the tips of his fingers.
“Hasn’t done the slightest good,” she declared; “better scrape him with
a putty knife, I think.”
“Stop a minute!” said the Kangaroo, “I have it,” and he went up and
whispered something in Oom Hi’s ear.
“Capital! capital! go and fetch a bottle,” cried Oom Hi, and the
Kangaroo rushed off, returning a minute later with a large bottle
marked Vimbril.
“Oh! don’t! don’t!” cried the poor Wallypug. “I’m not going to take any
of that stuff. It killed the lady who called herself my Sister-in-Law
you know, and it made the Doctor-in-Law ill. Take it away.”
“Of course you are not going to take any, Wallypug,” said Oom Hi
soothingly, “but there will be no harm in trying the effect upon your
complexion. It _might_ make you the proper color again you know, and
in that case I could alter the name and call it ‘Wallypug’s Blush,’ and
advertise it well; no doubt it would be a great success. Put some on
the sponge,” he continued, holding it out to the Kangaroo, who poured
out some of the nasty looking stuff.
“No! no! don’t. Ough!” shuddered his Majesty, but despite his protests
his face was well rubbed with the fluid.
“Worse than ever, he’s light brown now,” said the Cockatoo.
“Oh! wipe it off! wipe it off,” implored the Wallypug.
“No!” said Oom Hi, who seemed very greatly disappointed at the
non-success of his experiment, “let it dry on.”
“We had better put him in the stocks,” he declared, “to prevent him
from rubbing it off.” So the poor little Wallypug was led off to the
stocks and securely fastened in, with his hands spread out to dry, and
with strict injunctions not to move till he was told.
[Illustration: HIS MAJESTY IN THE STOCKS.]
The last view that I had of his Majesty was of the poor little fellow,
utterly worn out with his exertions, meekly sitting in the stocks and
falling into an uneasy slumber, from which, however, he was frequently
awakened by the bees and flies, which, attracted by the sticky stuff on
his face and hands, flocked around him as though he were a pot of jam.
“We might keep _this_ as a curiosity,” said the Cockatoo, turning her
attention to me next. “Put in a cage with a large label, ‘Blue-faced
and hatless man, Dangerous!’ he ought to be an attraction to our
menagerie. I think that’s what we’ll do with him,” and despite
my struggles and protests I was ignominiously marched off by the
Crocodiles, who continued to make rude and personal remarks about my
appearance all the way to the dungeon, where it appeared I was to spend
my time till a cage could be prepared for me.
Of course I was terribly indignant at my treatment, but was absolutely
powerless to prevent it And the only thing that I could do when the
Crocodiles had left me alone, after a few parting jeers, was to
consider the best way of effecting my escape.
[Illustration: MADE RUDE AND PERSONAL REMARKS ABOUT MY APPEARANCE.]
I was pondering seriously upon this question, when suddenly I
remembered the Gombobble with which the little blue people had
presented me when I left Wer-har-wei. Taking it from my pocket I idly
wondered if it were good to eat or not. It felt soft and looked
something like a huge blue orange or a melon; getting out my penknife
I plunged it in and cut the fruit open. Inside was a white juicy pulp
which looked very tempting, so trusting to its being good to eat I took
a bite.
It was delicious!
I took another bite, and then, happening to look at my hands, I
discovered to my great delight that they were regaining their proper
color.
“Come, this is better,” I cried, tackling a third piece; and then
suddenly remembering the poor Wallypug, I carefully cut the Gombobble
in half and put part of it aside for his Majesty, and was just about to
eat another little piece myself, when, happening to look up, I caught
sight of Mr. Nobody from Nowhere, squeezing through the bars of my
dungeon window.
He was as smiling and happy as ever, and made me an elaborate bow with
an elegant flourish, and then looked so very knowing that I felt sure
that he had something important to communicate.