"Mercy!" cried Mollie as the Unwiseman stepped out of the carpet-bag,
and began limbering up his stiffened legs by pirouetting about the room.
"Aren't you nearly stufficated to death?"
"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "Why should I be?"
"Well _I_ should think the inside of a carpet-bag would be pretty
smothery," observed Mollie.
"Perhaps it would be," agreed the Unwiseman, "if I hadn't taken mighty
good care that it shouldn't be. You see I brought that life-preserver
along, and every time I needed a bite of fresh air, I'd unscrew the tin
cap and get it. I pumped it full of fine salt air the day we left
Ireland for just that purpose."
"What a splendid idea!" ejaculated Mollie full of admiration for the
Unwiseman's ingenuity.
"Yes I think it's pretty good," said the Unwiseman, "and when I get back
home I'm going to invent it and make a large fortune out of it. Of
course there ain't many people nowadays, especially among the rich, who
travel in carpet-bags the way I do, or get themselves checked through
from New York to Chicago in trunks, but there are a lot of 'em who are
always complaining about the lack of fresh air in railroad trains
especially when they're going through tunnels, so I'm going to patent a
little pocket fresh air case that they can carry about with them and use
when needed. It is to be made of rubber like a hot-water bag, and all
you've got to do before starting off on a long journey is to take your
bicycle pump, pump the fresh-air bag full of the best air you can find
on the place and set off on your trip. Then when the cars get snuffy,
just unscrew the cap and take a sniff."
"My goodness!" cried Mollie. "You ought to make a million dollars out of
that."
"Million?" retorted the Unwiseman. "Well I should say so. Why there are
80,000,000 people in America and if I sold one of those fresh-air bags a
year to only 79,000,000 of 'em at two dollars apiece for ten years you
see where I'd come out. They'd call me the Fresh Air King and print my
picture in the newspapers."
"You couldn't lend me two dollars now, could you?" asked Whistlebinkie
facetiously.
"Yes I _could_," said the Unwiseman with a frown, "but I won't--but you
can go out on the street and breathe two dollars worth of fresh air any
time you want to and have it charged to my account."
Mollie laughed merrily at the Unwiseman's retort, and Whistlebinkie for
the time being had nothing to say, or whistle either for that matter.
"You missed a lot of interesting scenery on the way up, Mr. Me," said
Mollie.
"No I didn't," said the Unwiseman. "I heard it all as it went by, and
that's good enough for me. I'd just as lief hear a thing as see it any
day. I saw some music once and it wasn't half as pretty to look at as it
was when I heard it, and it's the same way about scenery if you only get
your mind fixed up so that you can enjoy it that way. Somehow or other
it didn't sound so very different from the scenery I've heard at home,
and that's one thing that made me like it. I'm very fond of sitting
quietly in my little room at home and listening to the landscape when
the moon is up and the stars are out, and no end of times as we rattled
along from Liverpool to London it sounded just like things do over in
America, especially when we came to the switches at the railroad
conjunctions. Don't they rattle beautifully!"
"They certainly do!" said Whistlebinkie, prompted largely by a desire to
get back into the good graces of the Unwiseman. "I love it when we bump
over them so hard they make-smee-wissle."
"You're all right when you whistle, Fizzledinkie," smiled the Unwiseman.
"It's only when you try to talk that you are not all that you should be.
Woyds and you get sort of tangled up and I haven't got time to ravel you
out. But I say, Mollie, we're really in London are we?"
"Yes," said Mollie. "This is it."
"Well I guess I'll go out and see what there is about it that makes
people want to come here," said the Unwiseman. "I've got a list of
things I want to see, and the sooner I get to work the sooner I'll see
'em. First thing I want to get a sight of is a real London fog. Then of
course I want to go down to the Aquarium and see the Prince of Whales,
and call on the King and Queen, and meet a few Dukes, and Earls and
things like that. Then there's the British Museum. I'm told there is a
lot of very interesting things down there including some Egyptian
mummies that are passing their declining years there. I've never talked
to a mummy in my life and I'd rather like to meet a few of 'em. I wonder
if Dick Whittington's cat is still living."
"O I don't believe so," said Mollie. "He must have died long years ago."
"The first time and maybe the second or third or even the fourth time,"
said the Unwiseman. "But cats have nine lives and if he lived fifty
years for each of them that would be--let's see, four times nine is
eighteen, three times two is ten, carry four and----"
"It would be 450 years," laughed Mollie.
"Pretty old cat," said Whistlebinkie.
"Well there's no harm in asking anyhow, and if he is alive I'm going to
see him, and if he isn't the chances are they've had him stuffed and a
stuffed cat is better to look at than no cat at all," said the
Unwiseman, brushing off his hat preparatory to going out. "Come on,
Mollie--are you ready?"
The little party trudged down the stairs and out upon the avenue upon
which their hotel fronted.
"Guess we'd better take a hansom," said the Unwiseman as they emerged
from the door. "We'll save time going that way if the driver knows his
business. We'll just tell him to go where we want to go, and in that way
we won't have to keep asking these Roberts the way round."
"Roberts?" asked Mollie, forgetting the little incident at Liverpool.
"Oh well--the Bobbies--the pleecemen," replied the Unwiseman. "I want to
get used to 'em before I call them that."
So they all climbed into a hansom cab.
"Where to, sir?" asked the cabby, through the little hole in the roof.
"Well I suppose we ought to call on the King first," said the Unwiseman
to Mollie. "Don't you?"
"I guess so," said Mollie timidly.
"To the King's," said the Unwiseman, through the little hole.
"Beg pardon!" replied the astonished cabby.
"Don't mention it," said the Unwiseman. "Drive to the King's house first
and apologize afterwards."
"I only wanted to know where you wished to go, sir," said the cabby.
"The King's, stupid," roared the Unwiseman, "Mr. Edward S.
King's--didn't you ever hear of him?"
"To the Palace, sir?" asked the driver.
"Of course unless his h. r. h. is living in a tent somewhere--and hurry
up. We didn't engage you for the pleasures of conversation, but to drive
us," said the Unwiseman severely.
The amazed cabman whipped up his horse and a short while afterwards
reached Buckingham Palace, the home of the King and Queen in London. At
either side of the gate was a tall sentry box, and a magnificent
red-coated soldier with a high bear-skin shako on his head paced along
the path.
"There he is now," said the Unwiseman, excitedly, pointing at the guard.
"Isn't he a magnificent sight. Come along and I'll introduce you."
The Unwiseman leapt jauntily out of the hansom and Mollie and
Whistlebinkie timidly followed.
"Howdido, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman stepping in front of the sentry
and making a profound salaam and almost sweeping the walk with his hat.
"We've just arrived in London and have called to pay our respects to you
and Mrs. King. I hope the children are well. We're Americans, Mr. King,
but for the time being we've decided to overlook all our little
differences growing out of the Declaration of Independence and wish you
a Merry Fourth of July."
The sentry was dumb with amazement at this unexpected greeting, and the
cabby's eyes nearly dropped out of his head they bulged so.
"Mollie, dear," continued Mr. Me, "Come here, my child and let me
introduce you to Mr. King. Mr. King, this is a little American girl
named Mollie. She's a bit bashful in your h. r. h's presence because
between you and me you are the first real King she's ever saw. We don't
grow 'em in our country--that is not your kind. We have Cattle Kings and
Steel Kings, and I'm expecting to become a Fresh Air King myself--but
the kind that's born to the--er--to the purple like yourself, with a
gilt crown on his head and the spectre of power in his hand we don't get
even at the circus."
[Illustration: MOLLY MAKES HER COURTESY TO MR. KING]
"Very glad to meet you," gasped Mollie, feasting her eyes upon the
gorgeous red coat of the sentry.
The sentry not knowing what else to do and utterly upset by the
Unwiseman's eloquence returned the gasp as politely as he could.
"She's a mighty nice little girl, Mr. King," said the Unwiseman with a
fond glance of admiration at Mollie. "And if any of your little kings
and queens feel like calling at the hotel some morning for a friendly
Anglo-American romp, Mollie will be very glad to see them. This other
young person, your h. r. h., is Whistlebinkie who belongs to one of the
best Rubber families of the United States. He looks better than he
talks. Whistlebinkie, Mr. King. Mr. King, Whistlebinkie."
Whistlebinkie, too overcome to speak, merely squeaked, a proceeding
which seemed to please the sentry very much for he returned a truly
royal smile and expressed himself as being very glad to meet
Whistlebinkie.
"Been having pretty cold weather?" asked the Unwiseman genially.
"Been rawther 'ot," said the sentry.
"I only asked," said the Unwiseman with a glance at the guard's shako,
"because I see you have your fur crown on. Our American Kings wear
Panama crowns this weather," he added, "but then we're free over there
and can do pretty much what we like. Did you get my letter?"
"Beg your pardon?" asked the sentry.
"Mercy!" ejaculated the Unwiseman under his breath. "What an apologetic
people these English are--first the cabby and now the King." Then he
repeated aloud, "My letter--I wrote to you yesterday about this H
dropping habit of your people, and I was going to say that if after
reading it you decided to make me a Duke I'd be very glad to accept if
the clothes a Duke has to wear don't cost more than $8.50. I might even
go as high as nine dollars if the suit was a real good one that I could
wear ten or eleven years--but otherwise I couldn't afford it. It would
be very kind of your h. r. h. to make me one, but I've always made it a
rule not to spend more than a dollar a year on my clothes and even a
Duke has got to wear socks and neckties in addition to his coats and
trousers. Who is your Majesty's Tailor? That red coat fits you like
wall-paper."
The sentry said something about buying his uniforms at the Army and Navy
stores and the Unwiseman observed that he would most certainly have to
go there and see what he could get for himself.
"I'll tell 'em your h. r. h. sent me," he said pleasantly, "and maybe
they'll give you a commission on what I buy."
A long pause followed broken only by Whistlebinkie's heavy breathing for
he had by no means recovered from his excitement over having met a real
king at last. Finally the Unwiseman spoke again.
"We'd like very much to accept your kind invitation to stay to supper,
Mr. King," he observed--although the sentry had said nothing at all
about any such thing--"but we really can't to-night. You see we are
paying pretty good rates at the hotel and we feel it a sort of duty to
stay there and eat all we can so as to get our money's worth. And we'd
like to meet the Queen too, but as you can see for yourself we're hardly
dressed for that. We only came anyhow to let you know that we were here
and to tell you that if you ever came to America we'd be mighty glad to
have you call. I've got a rather nice house of my own with a
kitchen-stove in it that I wouldn't sell for five dollars that you would
enjoy seeing. It's rented this summer to one of the most successful
burgulars in America and I think you'd enjoy meeting him, and don't
hesitate to bring the children. America's a great place for children,
your h. r. h. It's just chock full of back yards for 'em to play in, and
banisters to slide down, and roller skating rinks and all sorts of
things that children enjoy. I'll be very glad to let you use my umbrella
too if the weather happens to be bad."
The sentry was very much impressed apparently by the cordiality of the
Unwiseman's invitation for he bowed most graciously a half dozen times,
and touched his bear-skin hat very respectfully, and smiled so royally
that anybody could see he was delighted with the idea of some day
visiting that far off land where the Unwiseman lived, and seeing that
wonderful kitchen-stove of which, as we know, the old gentleman was so
proud.
"By the way," said the Unwiseman, confidentially. "Before I go I'd like
to say to you that if you are writing at any time to the Emperor of
Germany you might send him my kind regards. I had hoped to be able to
stop over at Kettledam, or wherever it is he lives--no, it's Pottsdam--I
always do get pots and kettles mixed--I had hoped to be able, I say, to
stop over there and pay my respects to him, but the chances are I won't
be able to do so this trip. I'd hate to have him think that I'd been
over here and hadn't paid any attention to him, and if you'll be so kind
as to send him my regards he won't feel so badly about it. I'd write and
tell him myself, but the fact is my German is a little rusty. I only
know German by sight--and even then I don't know what it means except
Gesundheit,--which is German for 'did you sneeze?' So you see a letter
addressed to Mr. Hoch----"
"Beg pardon, but Mr. Who sir?" asked the Sentry.
"Mr. Hoch, der Kaiser," said the Unwiseman. "That's his name, isn't it?"
The sentry said he believed it was something like that.
"Well as I was saying even if I wrote he wouldn't understand what I was
trying to say, so it would be a waste of time," said the Unwiseman.
The sentry nodded pleasantly, and his eyes twinkled under his great
bear-skin hat like two sparkling bits of coal.
"Good bye, your h. r. h.," the Unwiseman continued, holding out his
hand. "It has been a real pleasure to meet you, and between you and me
if all kings were as good mannered and decent about every thing as you
are we wouldn't mind 'em so much over in America. If the rest of 'em are
like you they're all right."
And so the Unwiseman shook hands with the sentry and Mollie did likewise
while Whistlebinkie repeated his squeak with a quaver that showed how
excited he still was. The three travellers re-entered the hansom and
inasmuch as it was growing late they decided not to do any more
sight-seeing that day, and instructed the cabby to drive them back to
the hotel.
"Wonderfully fine man, that King," said the Unwiseman as they drove
along. "I had a sort of an idea he'd have a band playing music all the
time, with ice cream and cake being served every five minutes in truly
royal style."
"He was just as pleasant as a plain everyday policeman at home," said
Mollie.
"Pleasanter," observed the Unwiseman. "A policeman at home would
probably have told us to move on the minute we spoke to him, but the
King was as polite as ginger-bread. I guess we were lucky to find him
outside there because if he hadn't been I don't believe the head-butler
would have let us in."
"How-dy'u-know he was the King?" asked Whistlebinkie.
"Oh I just felt it in my bones," said the Unwiseman. "He was so big and
handsome, and then that red coat with the gold buttons--why it just
simply couldn't be anybody else."
"He didn't say much, diddee," whistled Whistlebinkie.
"No," said the Unwiseman. "I guess maybe that's one of the reasons why
he's a first class King. The fellow that goes around talking all the
time might just as well be a--well a rubber-doll like you, Fizzledinkie.
It takes a great man to hold his tongue."
The hansom drew up at the hotel door and the travellers alighted.
"Thank you very much," said the Unwiseman with a friendly nod at the
cabby.
"Five shillin's, please, sir," said the driver.
"What's that?" demanded the Unwiseman.
"Five shillin's," repeated the cabby.
"What do you suppose he means?" asked the Unwiseman turning to Mollie.
"Why he wants to be paid five shillings," whispered Mollie. "Shillings
is money."
"Oh--hm--well--I never thought of that," said the Unwiseman uneasily.
"How much is that in dollars?"
"It's a dollar and a quarter," said Mollie.
"I don't want to buy the horse," protested the Unwiseman.
"Come now!" put in the driver rather impatiently. "Five shillin's,
sir."
"Charge it," said the Unwiseman, shrinking back. "Just put it on the
bill, driver, and I'll send you a cheque for it. I've only got ten
dollars in real money with me, and I tell you right now I'm not going to
pay out a dollar and a quarter right off the handle at one fell swoop."
"You'll pay now, or I'll--" the cabby began.
And just then, fortunately for all, Mollie's father, who had been
looking all over London for his missing daughter, appeared, and in his
joy over finding his little one, paid the cabby and saved the Unwiseman
from what promised to be a most unpleasant row.