AN 'AT HOME' AND THE ACADEMY
We were quite ready for luncheon, as you may imagine, after our
morning's adventures, and directly afterwards his Majesty set to work
on the new dog's muzzle which he had promised to invent. In about half
an hour he had constructed one with which he was intensely delighted,
and he persuaded A. Fish, Esq., to try it on that we might see the
effect.
It certainly was very simple, but as there was nothing whatever to go
over the mouth, I felt sure that it could not possibly be very useful.
I did not like to tell his Majesty so though, for he seemed so
thoroughly proud of his achievement.
It was now time to go to the 'At Home,' so, wishing to do honour to
the occasion, our 'State Coach,' as we called it, was sent for, and
we drove off in fine style.
There were a great many people invited to meet us, and I could see
that there was quite a little flutter of excitement when the Wallypug
entered.
[Illustration: IT CERTAINLY WAS VERY SIMPLE]
His Majesty, however, in his simple, good-natured way soon put
everybody at their ease, and laughed and chattered with the utmost
affability.
Girlie and Boy had both been allowed to come into the drawing-room,
and Girlie quite claimed the Wallypug as her own particular guest,
while Boy renewed his acquaintance with the Rhymester, whom he had met
before at Zum, and despite their mother's protests they carried these
two members of our party off in triumph to show them their play-room
and toys and to talk over old times.
While they were away the Doctor-in-Law made himself very agreeable to
the ladies, and I watched him bowing and smiling and chatting, first
with one group, then with another, with great amusement. I found out
afterwards that he had promised several of them portraits of his
Majesty and suite for 2s. 6d. each as soon as they should be taken,
and in every case had asked for the money in advance; but the great
event of the afternoon was when A. Fish, Esq., wrapped up in Mrs.
Putchy's pink woollen shawl, borrowed for the occasion, and surrounded
by a group of young ladies, consented after much pressing to deliver
part of his lecture on the "Perhapness of the Improbable."
"You bust sed for the Rhymebster though to help be to read id, for by
cold is still so bad thad I can'd do id by byself," he explained.
[Illustration: A. FISH, ESQ., OBLIGES]
So the Rhymester was sent for, and his Majesty also came down to hear
the wonderful lecture. It had been turned into verse by the Rhymester,
who, after an affected attempt to clear his throat, read as follows:
THE PERHAPNESS OF THE IMPROBABLE.
If _this_ were that, and _these_ were those,
And _hither_ nearer thither,
Why, _which_ might be whate'er it chose,
And _there_ be any whither.
Somehow 'twould be the simpler way
To _dearer_ be than cheaper,
And that's why _when_ (each other day)
Would _higher_ be than _deeper_.
So _worst_ would be the _best_ of all,
And _far more less_ than either;
While _short_ would certainly be _tall_,
And therefore thus be neither.
[Illustration: ABSENT-MINDEDLY SPILT HIS TEA]
"Beautiful! charming!" echoed all the young ladies at once when he
had finished, while one lady sitting near me exclaimed, "How sweetly
simple!" For my own part I thought that it was anything but simple,
and caught myself trying to follow the line of argument with the most
brain-confusing results.
The Wallypug was greatly distressed when he discovered that while
listening to the reading, and looking at the charming young lady with
whom he had been conversing, he had absent-mindedly spilt the whole of
his cup of tea over her dress.
"You see, they didn't give me a plate to put my cake on," I heard him
explain apologetically, "and it _was_ so awkward, for my cup would
keep slipping about on the saucer."
The young lady smiled very sweetly and assured his Majesty that it
didn't matter in the least, and shortly afterwards we left, having
stayed, as it was, far beyond the regulation time.
When we arrived home we found a letter addressed to the Rhymester in
the letter-box, which in a state of great excitement he tore open with
trembling fingers.
Upon reading the contents he burst into tears.
"Poor man, poor man!" he sobbed. "I am so sorry to have caused him so
much trouble."
"It is a letter from an Editor," he explained through his tears, "and
he is in great distress through not being able to publish my poem. He
says he greatly regrets his inability to make use of it! Poor man, he
evidently feels it very keenly. I must write and tell him not to be
too unhappy about it."
I had some letters to write too, one to a photographer in Regent
Street, asking for an appointment the next morning, for I was
determined that the Doctor-in-Law should send the promised photographs
to the young ladies without delay.
The first thing in the morning came a telegram to say that we could
be photographed at eleven o'clock, so, after my guests had made
themselves as spruce as possible, we started off and reached there in
good time.
It was suggested that the Wallypug should be taken by himself, but
when he saw the camera pointed directly at him while the operator
disappeared beneath the black cloth, he came to the conclusion that it
was too dangerous a machine to be faced with impunity, so he suddenly
turned his back upon it, and nervously fled from the room.
It was only by promising that the others should be taken with him that
we could get him to sit at all, and even then there was a strained
and nervous expression upon his face, which suggested that he was in
momentary fear that the thing would "go off."
The Rhymester insisted upon being taken with one of his poems in his
hand, the Doctor-in-Law wore his usual complacent smile, and
altogether the group was quite a success.
As soon as the "operation," as the Wallypug would insist upon calling
it, was over, we went downstairs, his Majesty leading the way, while
the Doctor-in-Law stayed behind for a moment to make some arrangements
with the photographer about commission. We had intended going home by
'bus, but when we got to the door his Majesty was nowhere to be seen.
What could have become of him? We looked up and down the street, but
could see no signs of him anywhere; and at last, after hunting about
for a considerable time, he was discovered calmly sitting inside a
furniture removal van, waiting for it to start, under the impression
that it was an omnibus.
"I'm sure this is the right one," he explained, "for it has
'Kensington' printed in large letters on it. Come along, there's
plenty of room inside; the conductor and the driver will be here
presently, I suppose."
I laughingly explained to his Majesty the mistake which he had made,
and we walked on as far as Piccadilly Circus, where we found a 'bus to
take us to the Academy, which we intended visiting on our way home. We
had not gone far though, when I suddenly remembered that the 22nd June
was very close at hand, and that I had better make arrangements for
seats to view the Jubilee Procession or I should be too late. So it
was arranged that the Doctor-in-Law should take charge of the party
while I went on to the agents to see about the seats. They would have
no difficulty in getting home by themselves for the 'buses ran from
just outside the Academy doors straight to Kensington, so I felt sure
that they would be all right.
"How much is the entrance fee to the Academy?" asked the
Doctor-in-Law, as I was getting down from the 'bus.
"A shilling each," I replied, and I saw the little man collecting the
money from the others as the 'bus disappeared from view.
[Illustration: WAITING FOR IT TO START]
I was very fortunate at the agents in being able to secure a
capital window in Piccadilly, and some Stores in the neighbourhood
undertook to provide a luncheon and to suitably decorate the window
for us.
These arrangements being satisfactorily concluded, I hurried home, and
was greatly relieved to find my guests there before me.
"How did you enjoy the Academy?" I inquired.
[Illustration: COULD NOT UNDERSTAND THE CATALOGUE]
"Not at all!" said his Majesty decidedly.
"Waste of money, I call it," said the Rhymester, sniffing
contemptuously.
"I was dever so disappointed id edythig id all by life!" declared A.
Fish, Esq.
"Besides, the catalogue was no good at all," complained his Majesty.
"We could make neither head nor tail of it."
The Doctor-in-Law was silent, and it was only by very careful inquiry
that I found out that, after pocketing their money, he had taken them
to an immense hoarding covered with advertisement posters, and had
gammoned them into believing that _that_ was the Academy, while it was
no wonder that the poor Wallypug could not understand the 'catalogue,'
for it was nothing more nor less than an old illustrated stores price
list.
It was really too bad of the Doctor-in-Law.