THE POLLY-NOSED SAPHEAD
NOBODY ever was awakened in Sleepy Town, but everyone slept just as
long as they chose. Consequently the morning was well advanced before
the King and Queen awoke, and sat up yawning and stretching in a very
unregal manner. In fact, it was just like the awakening of ordinary
folks. And when they had gotten through with this performance, they
stood up and arranged their robes and put on their crowns which they
had carefully hung up on a nearby poppy bush. Sally was also awake. She
and the Sign Post had already taken a walk down to the lake where the
little girl had looked eagerly for the Leap-Frog. But the queer little
animal was nowhere to be seen, so the two had retraced their steps,
after Sally had bathed her face and hands in the cool water. They were
very glad to find the King and Queen and Bedelia waiting for them and
eager to take the homeward way.
As they walked towards the gates, Sally noticed quite a number of
Flussies perched on the bushes, their heads under their wings, fast
asleep. The Sign Post remarked that they were the carrier-doves of
Toyland. Here and there a furry bat, hooked on some convenient branch
by his little claws, slept peacefully. Sally remarked how pretty and
downy they were, just like little winged mice. She had always wondered
why people feared them, knowing how senseless and cruel are the
superstitions regarding the timid little creatures.
“He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small,
For the dear God who loveth us
He made and loveth all.”
She repeated the lines half dreamily to herself, wondering if they
included the Little Lamb and others of his ilk, as they walked along
towards the entrance, where they could already see the motor car, which
had just been freshly wound up, waiting for them.
The King and Queen climbed into the back seat, Sally and Bedelia sprang
up with the chauffeur, and with the Sign Post racing ahead on his long,
lath-like legs, they set out at a merry pace for Joytown.
It was nearly noon when they reached the palace, and after luncheon,
the Queen proposed that they should pay a visit to the Polly-nosed
Saphead, the Wizard who really controlled more or less all the affairs
of state. As Sally was only too eager to go, they hurried away without
ceremony as soon as might be, in order to have a good long afternoon.
This rather offended all the other members of the court, who were
decidedly inclined to feel aggrieved and neglected since Sally and
Bedelia had come a-visiting to the palace.
The Polly-nosed Saphead lived in a great, round tower about half a
mile from the palace. He had been advised of the advent of royalty by
means of the wireless telegraph, which has always existed in Toyland.
In fact, he claimed to be the inventor of it. But be that as it may,
he received the message from the King all right, and was on hand to
receive the royal party in his big audience room on the first floor.
When they entered the hall he was discovered sitting in his big
chair of state, his shrunken little body wrapped in a loose robe of
crimson covered with queer black figures and lined with white fur,
while his two pet gargoyles sported about at his feet. Sally saw with
astonishment that he was not a doll, but a real little man, or, more
properly speaking, a little dwarf, with a great head as bald as a
billiard ball. This defect was partially concealed by one little tuft
of hair or scalp lock, which had a dreadful habit of lifting itself
straight up in the air whenever it did not agree with the sentiments
expressed by its wearer. As for the back of his head, it was as smooth
as the palm of your hand, a fact which had long ago firmly convinced
its owner that it was extremely impolite ever to turn his back on
anyone. He had, in consequence, acquired a reputation for great
courtesy, and was pointed out as a kind of Chesterfield to the rising
generation of Toyland.
Great, flapping ears stuck out on either side of the Wizard’s little
weazened face, while his big, bulging eyes were shaded by brows and
lashes that, naturally white, were always carefully dyed to match the
scalp lock, which, if the truth must be told, was dyed too. After a
time the dye gradually wore off and grew lighter in color, so that when
the great man neglected to visit his barber at proper intervals, his
hair, not to mention his lashes, became gradually of a delicate green
hue, having worked successively through every known shade of brown
before it reached this undesirable tint. When in good condition, it
was of a rich and glossy brown, shading upon black. “Streaky,” Bedelia
cruelly declared it, the moment she laid eyes upon it.
But the most astonishing feature belonging to the Polly-nosed Saphead
was his large, beak-like nose that, shining and fleshless, rose
determinedly from the surrounding level of his countenance like the
bill of a poll-parrot, and imparted to his general appearance an air of
forever wishing to peer into mysteries. Never did question mark more
continuously uprear a perpetual interrogation than did the great man’s
inquiring nasal organ. Hence his name “The Polly-Nosed” which, far
from being a term of ridicule, was on the contrary, a title of great
respect. For were not parrots the wisest birds in all Toyland? Whatever
the rest of the name meant in the general language of Toyland, we will
not now pause to explain.
A real parrot of most brilliant plumage hung upside down on the back
of the wise man’s chair, suspended by its claws and evidently fast
asleep. While the gargoyles that Sally had at once perceived with great
astonishment upon entering the hall, frisked about their master’s chair.
The little girl had never considered these queer creatures in any other
position than close up under the eaves of a church. And she had always
supposed that their chief occupation was to spout a great deal of water
out of their huge mouths. These specimens, however, judging from their
disorderly conduct, had never heard of such a place as a church. In
fact, they were just then engaged in trying to swarm up the sides of
their master’s chair, in order to pull down the parrot. That wise old
fellow, knowing that in spite of their clumsy wings, they would never
be able to reach him in his fastness without first wallowing all over
their master, slept peacefully on, upside down as he was, and never
paid any attention to them at all.
They certainly were remarkably hideous looking creatures, having
apparently been left off when not more than half finished, for they
possessed only a head and shoulders, with great front paws and strong,
cruel looking claws. In addition to these, they each sported a pair of
dragon-like wings. They had great mouths that very nearly met around at
the back of their necks, and huge, bulging eyes, and altogether were
anything but pretty pets.
However, they crouched on the floor at a gesture from the Wizard, who
now hurriedly got himself up out of his big chair, and came forward,
bowing and scraping with the most effusive courtesy. He had big eyes
that stuck out dreadfully and gave them a ridiculous resemblance to the
gargoyles, and so fearfully did they wiggle and roll about that Sally
began to fear they would hop out of their sockets altogether before he
had finished his profuse greetings.
He seemed especially glad to see Sally, whom he at once perceived to be
of his own kind, and quite different from the inhabitants of Toyland.
Everybody having greeted everybody else with much politeness and
warmth, the King announced that he would be greatly pleased if the
Wizard would show Sally the wonders of his tower, especially the
Department of the Sun, in which they were all greatly interested.
At this the Wizard appeared greatly flattered and begged them to
excuse him for a moment. He hastened to the far end of the room where
the gargoyles had briskly renewed their efforts to get at the parrot,
seized that still soundly sleeping bird, and proceeded to hang him up
by his claws on a high bracket that had originally served to support
his own cage. Polly slept serenely and the Wizard, having tethered
the gargoyles to the legs of his great chair, returned to the waiting
party. This greatly displeased the gargoyles for by this time they had
discovered Bedelia, and were quite willing to lose the parrot if they
might get at her. It must be confessed, Bedelia did not like their
looks at all and hung to Sally’s protecting arm, although she had held
up her head and looked back over her shoulders with a provoking grin
as the whole company left the hall and began to ascend a narrow and
winding flight of stairs that led to the top of the tower.
Up and up they went, finally stepping out upon a wide platform or
veranda that ran all around the tower, and Sally saw that the great
round sun—which she perceived at a glance to be nothing more nor less
than a big electric light within a dazzling globe of cut-glass—hung
directly over the tower. The child understood at once that the Wizard’s
great power lay in his knowledge of electricity. However, she made no
comment, nor even hinted at the fact that she had ever heard of such a
thing.
She was not at all surprised that the Wizard offered very few
explanations. In fact, he was very jealous of his methods of working,
and feared continually that somebody else might discover them. As there
was no patent office in Toyland, the best thing he could do was to keep
his secrets to himself, which he accordingly did to perfection.
[Illustration]
The Sign Post, still in faithful attendance, whispered to Sally that
the great surface of the sun was kept clean by hundreds of tiny elves
who were known as the Sunshine Fairies and who spent all their lives
rubbing and polishing the glittering cut-glass surface.
“Once in the beginning,” he said solemnly, “they grew weary and fell
asleep, and the face of the sun became dark and dusty for want of
rubbing, so that we had an eclipse.”
Sally smiled, thinking it a great deal more likely that something in
connection with the electric plan had gotten out of order. However, she
offered no comment but nodded and smiled.
“Since then,” continued the Sign Post, “the elves have been divided
into two companies, and at stated times they are sent off to Sleepy
Town for rest. Then when they return the others go. It is a plan that
works very well.”
“Much better than having eclipses all the time,” broke in Bedelia
sharply. She was not very sure what an eclipse was, but had come to the
conclusion that it must be something unpleasant and disagreeable.
Sally now perceived myriads of the little Sunshine Fairies slipping
down the cold and glittering sunbeams, and right jolly creatures they
seemed to be. Each one had two pair of hands and arms so that when one
pair grew tired of rubbing and polishing, the other might come into
play.
Sally was not surprised to find the sunbeams cold, as the moonbeams in
Sleepy Town had been warm and quite springlike in their temperature.
However, she did feel curious concerning the manner in which they were
regulated, as the sunlight at noon was ever so much brighter than it
was at morning or evening. Accordingly she inquired of the ever ready
Sign Post, as she had a vague idea that the Wizard rather disliked
being questioned.
It was immediately explained to her that the light was regulated by
means of many folds of soft gauze, which were operated by means of
ropes and pulleys and in as many thicknesses as were required. They
were also in various shades of yellow, pink and violet and soft gray,
so that a most beautiful twilight could at any time be had for the
asking by simply arranging the gauze in appropriate color and thickness.
It all seemed so simple that Sally was beginning to think the Wizard
had won his fame very easily. That personage, who had of course felt
obliged to give the most of his attention to the King and Queen, now
led the way down the narrow and winding stairs, a journey which the
Sign Post made in about half as many steps with his long legs.
Very shortly they were back again in the big audience hall. Everything
was just as they had left it, the parrot still asleep and hanging up
like a bat by his claws, and the gargoyles both dozing, one under the
Wizard’s great chair and the other upon it, each with one eye open.
Sally, who had noticed Bedelia’s somewhat hostile attitude, was
relieved to find all the creatures asleep. But they were not long to
remain so, for the noise made by the party in returning speedily woke
them. The parrot, with a shrill cry, flew straight to her favorite
perch on the back of her master’s chair. Being still half asleep, she
did not perceive the dear little pet that occupied it until a lusty tug
at her tail and the dreadful consciousness that she had parted company
with several of her best tail feathers caused her to fly to the floor,
squawking and chattering.
Immediately both the gargoyles gave chase, but Polly, far from
retreating, turned boldly to face her tormentors. In a moment Bedelia
had thrown herself into the thick of the fray and there ensued a very
bad quarter of an hour for everybody all around. Fur and feathers flew
and Polly, reinforced by Bedelia, would have scored a signal victory
owing to the fact that the gargoyles were tied up, while the parrot,
after delivering a series of blows with beak and claws, could always
get out of the range of their jaws. Finally the Wizard, whom none of
them seemed to mind the least bit, succeeded in restoring order. The
gargoyles were driven off to a far corner where they were tied up in
disgrace, and Polly, minus her tail feathers, was shut up in her cage,
squawking and protesting every step of the way.
[Illustration]
Meantime, Bedelia quickly secured the bone of contention, namely the
brilliant tail feathers, and stuck them into her fur behind her ears,
where they stood up impudently, giving her rather the aspect of an
Indian squaw.
Peace having been restored, afternoon tea was brought in and served by
a number of jumping-jacks, who were in fine livery and powdered wigs.
The jumping-jacks were exclusively in the service of the Wizard and
very fine servants they proved to be. To be sure, one of them would
occasionally collapse and fall in a limp heap on the floor, scattering
tea and cakes all over the place. But as jumping-jacks usually do
collapse and sprawl on the ground unless properly held up by the string
that always grows out of the tops of their heads, nobody seemed to
think anything of it, or to mind it in the least.
It seemed rather a shame to Sally that they should be compelled to wear
powdered wigs, thus covering up forever that most important string.
The poor creatures could never be quite sure when they were going to
collapse. Besides, what a quantity of tea and cakes was always being
wasted! She could not exactly figure it all out and confided her
dilemma to the Sign Post. He remarked that even were the powdered wigs
dispensed with, there would be nobody to hold up the strings.
While this was very true, it did not help Sally in the least, and she
was rather glad when the Queen declared that it was time to leave, and
the whole party, having bade good-bye to the Wizard, with thanks for
the pleasant if somewhat strenuous visit, returned to the palace.