THE TALKING SIGN POST
“DON’T you think it was telling awful whoppers?” asked Bedelia, as she
settled down comfortably upon her haunches and proceeded to dispose of
a plump red banana with a rapidity that would certainly have called
forth a rebuke from the personage to whom she referred.
Sally hesitated, not quite certain which side it devolved upon her to
defend. She certainly had been somewhat impressed by D. Tablet. Had
she not seen him come tumbling, frog-like, out of Bedelia’s throat?
For aught that she could prove to the contrary, he had, perhaps, gone
tumbling back again. Being thus cruelly torn between her fondness for
Bedelia and her sense of justice, she wisely held her peace, while
Bedelia, by this time well on the way with the second banana, mentally
hurled defiance at her pink advisor.
“He was damp all over. He looked as if somebody had _licked_ him!”
she finally ejaculated, throwing away her banana skin and standing up
preparatory to suggesting that they resume their journey.
At the same moment her face stiffened, while her eyes fairly bulged
out of her head with amazement. Hurrying straight down the road toward
them, and advancing by leaps and bounds was a long, lithe figure that
they both recognized as it came nearer as the Talking Sign Post. It now
came up at a brisk gallop, and exclaimed breathlessly as soon as within
hailing distance,
“I was _so_ afraid you would get lost without me!”
Thereupon it threw itself comfortably down on the greensward and
beamed amiably at Sally. She felt very much like replying that if he
had been a little more communicative in the beginning, the danger of
going astray would have been smaller. However, she refrained, being
dreadfully afraid of offending the Sign Post, who after all appeared
to be very good-hearted. Not so Bedelia, who cocked her sharp, little,
black eyes in a most inquisitive manner and hastily retorted,
“No thanks to _you_ if we _did_ get lost, with your ‘Five miles to the
Palace’ and nothing else. How should we know which turning to take
next?” And then she added hurriedly, “Why don’t you have things painted
on you as they do in civilized countries?”
“If by _things_ you mean directions,” replied the Sign Post gravely,
“it would be altogether superfluous in a land where everything can
talk. And as for turnings,” he added severely, “there aren’t any. All
the roads in Toyland lead to the Palace, so you are sure to get there
some time or other. To be sure, some roads are longer than others. In
the event of your taking the longest one, you might consider yourselves
lost.”
[Illustration]
All out of patience with what she considered an extremely round-about
explanation, Bedelia did not trouble herself to reply, but Sally
hastened to smooth things over by offering the Sign Post some luncheon
out of the paper bag, which they had managed to repair with some pins,
and which now contained the remnants of their repast. This, however,
he politely refused, having already lunched copiously on his usual
diet of shavings which curious regimen agreed best with his wooden
constitution. Sally was rather disappointed at this. She recollected
once having been taken to the Zoo and having seen the ostriches fed
with oranges. And she remembered how very queer it had appeared to
her to watch the fruit as each piece traveled down the birds’ long,
red throats, one chasing another until they finally vanished in the
feathery region below. She could not help thinking that the Sign Post
was very like the throat of an ostrich, only the resemblance continued
all the way down. She could not but wonder where the luncheon would
finally have located itself, as there were apparently no facilities for
expansion in the general make-up of the Sign Post.
There was a short silence, during which Bedelia made ostentatious
preparations for moving on.
Fond as she was of the little bear, at that moment it seemed to Sally
that it could not exist in any sort of comfort without making somebody
else miserable. So she said very gently,
“Would you kindly tell me what land we are in?”
She felt quite sure that the Sign Post was waiting for her to open the
conversation.
An expression of surprise flitted over the mobile countenance of
the Sign Post, but he replied without further comment, “This is the
wonderful country of Toyland,” and then murmured in a reminiscent
manner, “Five miles to the Palace. Five miles to the Palace.” After a
moment he added, “Perhaps it will be just as well for us to be moving
without more delay. It is quite a long way for you to walk.”
So all three got upon their feet and cheerfully resumed their travels.
The country, although very fresh and green, seemed to the little girl
rather monotonous. The same cows, pigs and sheep, the same stiff little
wooden houses, fenced in by the same stiff wooden railings. People
seemed few, but as it was not far from noon, Sally concluded that they
must all be eating their dinners. And a very sensible conclusion it
was. The few folk that were encountered were of the wooden doll type,
and they all appeared to be so very busy at their work in the fields
that Sally forbore to hail them, although she would dearly have liked
to stop long enough to pass the time of day with them.
So the three proceeded, chatting merrily, the Sign Post accommodating
his long, swinging stride to the shorter steps of his small companions.
An exchange of confidences was, of course, the natural thing, and Sally
was soon giving a complete account of herself and Bedelia and of how
they had happened to stumble into Toyland. The Sign Post listened with
attention, and in return gave much valuable information concerning
both himself and the country. He explained that there were many other
Sign Posts like himself, that they were stationed at intervals of five
miles, and that it was their duty to conduct as well as to direct
strangers, should they so desire. He also explained that there was no
night in Toyland, as it was a very difficult and expensive business to
start up the sun, which in consequence was allowed to go on shining _ad
libitum_.
“Whenever anyone feels in need of rest or _repairs_, he takes a trip
to Sleepy Town. It lies just over there and adjoining our own country.
There it is always night, the moon shines perpetually, and everything
invites slumber.”
Here the Sign Post yawned in so fearful a manner that Sally, gazing on
his open countenance, decided that he might very well be a candidate
for Sleepy Town.
Following the direction in which he had pointed as he described the
location of Sleepy Town, Sally’s glance discerned what appeared to be a
faint, purplish haze hanging upon the horizon.
“You will find a great many Sign Posts there,” said her companion so
abruptly that Sally jumped, for she had fancied that he was still
yawning, “on account of the darkness. For example, how would a stranger
find Nid-Nod Street or Blanket Avenue, were there not someone present
to inform him?”
And Sally, comprehending the weight of his argument, nodded gravely.
The trio had now accomplished half their journey, and about two
miles and a half lay between them and the Palace. Sally did not feel
particularly tired, as the road was very smooth and not at all dusty.
Once an automobile passed them and Sally noted the fact that it was of
exactly the same pattern as one that she owned and which now reposed in
the nursery at home in a garage constructed by Bob of building blocks.
It was of the wrought-iron variety, and was wound up with a key.
[Illustration]
The auto which had spun merrily by suddenly stopped a few yards
ahead of them and refused to budge an inch. Sally and her companions
hastened their steps and, coming up with the auto, found that it had
run down. As the chauffeur had forgotten to bring along the key, the
party of lady dolls that occupied the car were plunged in the deepest
despair and chagrin. Sally suddenly remembered her little golden key
and hastily produced it. It was found to fit to perfection. With many
thanks the party proceeded on its way, first having invited Sally and
Bedelia to take seats in the car. The Sign Post was, of course, quite
out of the question. However, Sally politely declined, as she really
preferred very much to continue her walk with her lanky companion, to
say nothing of Bedelia. This the Sign Post greatly appreciated, and
presently stooped down and, gently lifting the little girl, he poised
her aloft on his shoulders, and in this gallant fashion she rode for a
mile or more, while Bedelia trotted behind, grumbling and growling at
the discourtesy shown her. Although she had been very uncivil indeed to
the Sign Post, Bedelia could see no good reason why she should not ride
on his other shoulder.
Being completely rested—indeed, she had not been a bit tired in the
beginning—Sally slid laughingly to the ground, quite in opposition to
the wishes of the Sign Post, who would gladly have carried her till the
end of the chapter. They had ascended a slight hill, and the city now
lay in plain sight in the charming valley beneath them. Sally could not
but observe that there was nothing at all imposing in its appearance.
All the houses seemed planned after about the same pattern. Even the
Palace itself seemed to be only a doll’s house on a larger scale than
the others. Sally’s mental comparison of it with her own beloved
Walking House was anything but favorable. The little girl presently
paused, however, to reflect that being now in the country of dolls and
toys, she could scarcely expect to find sky-scrapers. Bedelia turned
up her nose frankly enough, and, as was her custom, at once proceeded
to express her opinions without let or hindrance. And what might have
been the result had she been permitted to conclude as she began nobody
knows, for the Sign Post was beginning to look very much put out.
[Illustration]
But just at that moment their attention was attracted by a loud
noise behind them, a fearful pounding and bumping. Looking around,
they beheld advancing along the road at a high rate of speed a huge
_something_—what they were at first unable to decide. But as it came
nearer and nearer and finally swung into full view, they discovered
that it was nothing more nor less than the Walking House, hurrying
along at an astonishing pace, while from the interior issued a doleful
voice which loudly repeated at intervals the entreaty, “Wait for me!
Wait for me!”
All its windows glistened in the sun like blinking eyes, while the
castors on which it originally stood had somehow turned into prancing
feet that now hopped and skipped along with the greatest alacrity. On
it came, bumping and bouncing, and all its terrified inhabitants bumped
and bounced too, while they hung on for dear life to any available
piece of furniture that they had happened to grasp. And nearly scared
out of their wits was every mother’s son of them, for only a colony of
rubber dolls could have been in a comfortable frame of mind under such
trying circumstances. Greatly relieved were all when the frisky house
suddenly ceased its gyrations and came to a dead stop directly in front
of Sally.