THE JUBILEE
The few days which elapsed before the memorable 22nd of June passed
very quickly, and we were all more or less busy making preparations
for the festival. His Majesty would insist upon polishing up his
regalia himself in order to do honour to the occasion, and spent hours
over his crown with a piece of chamois leather and some whitening
till, though somewhat battered by the rough usage it had sustained, it
shone quite brilliantly. Mrs. Putchy herself suggested making his
Majesty some new red silk rosettes for his shoes, which he very
graciously consented to accept. The Doctor-in-Law was always so spick
and span that we scarcely noticed any change in his appearance, but
the Rhymester had made arrangements with General Mary Jane to wash,
starch, and iron his lace collar, and he remained in his room one
entire day while it was being done up. A. Fish, Esq., purchased a
necktie of most brilliant colouring, and One-and-Nine touched himself
up here and there with some red enamel where his tunic had become
shabby in places, so that altogether our party looked very smart as we
drove at a very early hour to our seats in Piccadilly. To avoid the
crowd we went by way of Bayswater Road, and then passed down Park Lane
and through Berkeley Square, in order to reach the back entrance to
the house in Piccadilly where I had booked seats. Our gorgeous
carriage was everywhere hailed with great delight, being of course
mistaken for a portion of the Jubilee procession, and many were the
conjectures heard on all sides as to who the Wallypug could possibly
be.
[Illustration: WITH SOME RED ENAMEL]
Our window was in the centre of the building on the first floor, and
we had it all to ourselves. A table at the back of the room was
tastefully set out with an excellent cold collation, and in front of
the window, which was most elaborately decorated with velvet curtains,
flags, and trophies, and which was surmounted by a device which was
understood to be the Wallypug's coat-of-arms, a gorgeous, gilded,
high-backed chair was placed as a throne for his Majesty, and
comfortable seats were also provided for the rest of the party.
The crowd outside greeted our appearance with quite a demonstration,
as by the enormous placard outside announcing the name of the
decorators, and stating that they were by appointment to his Majesty
the Wallypug of Why, of course everybody knew who we were. Indeed, one
learned-looking person in the crowd was holding forth to an eager
audience, and explaining exactly where Why was situated, and
pretending that he had been there, and had seen the Wallypug before,
ever so many times.
As the time approached for the procession to pass, the Wallypug became
very excited and nervous. "Shall I really see the Queen of England?"
he kept asking over and over again. "Do you think she will see me?
Will she bow to me? What must I say? Must I keep my crown on or take
it off?" and innumerable other questions of the same nature.
Presently the excitement and enthusiasm reached their height, as amid
a confused shouting of "Here they are," the Guards in advance came in
sight. Slowly the mighty procession, with its innumerable squadrons
and bands passed, and at last, after the English and Foreign princes
and Eastern potentates, the eight cream-coloured Hanoverian horses,
drawing the Jubilee landau, made their appearance, and the Queen was
seen, smiling and bowing graciously to the cheering populace. The
Doctor-in-Law, in his excitement, scrambled on to the window ledge in
order to obtain a better view; the Wallypug loyally waved his crown;
while the Rhymester, hurriedly unrolling a lengthy ode which he had
written especially for the occasion, began reading it in a loud voice,
and, though nobody paid the slightest attention to him, did not desist
until long after the procession had passed.
[Illustration: THE WALLYPUG LOYALLY WAVED HIS CROWN]
The Wallypug was very thoughtful for some time after the Queen had
gone by, and, during the drive home, expressed his great surprise
that her Majesty had not worn a crown, and apparently could not
understand why it should not be worn on all occasions.
"I suppose her Majesty has a crown of her own, hasn't she?" he asked
anxiously.
"Oh yes, of course!" I replied.
"Where is it then?" persisted his Majesty.
"I believe all of the regalia is kept carefully locked up and guarded
in the Tower of London," I said.
"Well, I think it's very unkind of them not to let her Majesty have
them out on an occasion like this. I shall see what I can do about
it."
The dear Wallypug's intentions were evidently so good that I did not
say anything in reply to this, though I wondered to myself whatever
his Majesty thought that _he_ could do in the matter.
There were so many people about that we considered it best to spend
the rest of the day quietly at home, though we did venture out in the
evening to see the illuminations, which delighted his Majesty
exceedingly.
The next afternoon the whole party, with the exception of
One-and-Nine, drove over the route taken by the procession, in order
to see the street decorations. I remained at home, and late in the
afternoon there was a knock at my door, and General Mary Jane entered.
She was nervously wringing a handkerchief wet with tears, and her eyes
were quite red with weeping.
"Please, sir," she began, sniffing pathetically, "I want to
gi--gi--give no--notice."
"Why! what ever for?" I asked in surprise, for General Mary Jane was
an excellent servant, and Mrs. Putchy had always been very pleased
with her.
"Please, sir, it's Sergeant One-and-Nine; he's broken my 'art, sir,
and I can't bear it no longer," and the poor girl burst into a flood
of tears.
"Bless me!" I cried, "whatever do you mean?"
"Well, sir, you see ever since he's been 'ere, sir, he's been a making
hup to me; leastwise that's what I thought he meant, sir; but this
afternoon bein' my day hout, I went up to Kensington Gardens for a
walk (him a saying as he would be there), and what should I see when
I gets there, but him a walkin' about with half-a-dozen of them
nursemaids in white frocks a followin' of him. Not that I says as it's
altogether his fault; they will run after the military; but it's more
than I can stand, sir, me bein' that proud at 'avin' a soldier for a
sweetheart, and all," and she began to cry again.
[Illustration: THEY WILL RUN AFTER THE MILITARY]
I hardly knew what to do, but suggested that she should not think too
seriously about it, and General Mary Jane, saying she hoped I would
excuse her troubling me in the matter, decided to go to her married
sister at Barnes and spend the rest of her day out there, and talk
the matter over with her. I had a lot of writing to do all the
afternoon, and the time passed so quickly that until the gong sounded
for dinner I did not realize that the Wallypug and his party had not
returned. It was now past seven, and they should have been home hours
since.
I was so anxious about them that I could scarcely eat any dinner, and
as soon as the meal was over I hurried to the livery stables to hear
if they knew anything about the matter.
The first person I encountered when I arrived there was the coachman,
now divested of his fine livery, and busy in the yard.
"Bless you, sir, yes, back hours ago," said he. "I set his Majesty and
the others down at your door about five o'clock, and I did hear them
say something about going down to Hammersmith for a walk."
"To Hammersmith?" I echoed in surprise.
"Yes, sir--they wanted to see the Suspension Bridge and the river
again, so I told them the way to get there. They're all right, sir,
I'll be bound. The Doctor-in-Law is too wide awake for anything to
happen to them while he is with them."
I walked home somewhat easier in my mind now that I knew the party had
returned safely, though still somewhat anxious as to their
whereabouts.
About nine o'clock it began to get quite dark, and I was just setting
out to see if I could find any trace of them when General Mary Jane
returned.
[Illustration: "AND DONKEY RIDES"]
"Oh, sir!" she exclaimed directly she saw me, "what do you think? His
Majesty and the Doctor-in-Law and the others are down at the fair by
Hammersmith Bridge, and they are 'aving such a lark. I see them all
'aving a roundabout as I was coming past on my way 'ome from my
sister's just now; such a crowd there was a cheering and a hollering.
Cocoa-nut shies, too, a boy told me they had been 'aving, and old Aunt
Sally, and donkey rides along the towing path."
[Illustration: "THEY ARE 'AVING SUCH A LARK"]
I hurriedly put on my hat and rushed off to Hammersmith, for I didn't
know what might happen to my guests among the rough crowd which I knew
usually gathered there.
When I arrived on the scene I found the whole party on the roundabout,
and when they alighted I learned that the Doctor-in-Law had arranged
with one of the show people to share the proceeds of exhibiting the
Wallypug and A. Fish, Esq., in separate tents, at 3d. a head.
I met with considerable opposition from the show people in my
endeavours to persuade my guests to come home, as they had evidently
been a source of considerable profit to them, though the man with the
cocoa-nut shies declared that the Doctor-in-Law had claimed a great
many more nuts than he was properly entitled to.
The crowd made quite a demonstration when we departed in a
four-wheeler, and the Rhymester evidently considered it a compliment
that the contents of so many "ladies' tormentors," as the little tubes
filled with water are called, were directed at him. Altogether the
whole party had evidently been delighted with their evening's
amusement, though, as I explained to them while we were driving home,
it was highly inconsistent with the dignity of his Majesty's position,
and calculated to cause him to be treated with a certain amount of
disrespect. I could see, however, that all I said had very little
effect on any of the party, and that they were one and all highly
delighted with their adventure.