[Illustration: 9033]
ROWING shorter and shorter as he hurried along, Boy noticed that the
Moon had gone back to its usual place in the sky, and that Pierrot was
nowhere to be seen.
“I suppose he is lying down asleep on the cushions,” he thought, as he
let himself down from one step to another; for you see he had by this
time become so small that the steps seemed like huge rocks to him.
When he at last reached the bottom one, he was greatly disappointed
to find that there was nobody in sight. From behind a piece of rock,
however, half buried in the sand, came the sound of laughter. “Ha, ha,
ha! Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho!” shouted somebody, and when Boy hurried up to
where the sounds proceeded from a curious sight met his eyes.
A Grig was pirouetting about on the tip of its tail, giggling and
laughing in an insane fashion, whilst a solemn-looking Wooden Soldier
was standing at “attention” and looking straight in front of him, not
taking the slightest notice of the Grig or anything else.
Presently the Grig caught sight of Boy. “Hee, hee, hee!” he snickered,
“here comes a boy! What a jolly lark!” and he capered about more madly
than before.
The Wooden Soldier, who had a label round his neck with “One-and-Nine”
written on it, turned stiffly around, so that he faced Boy, and said in
a deep voice,--
“I wote for you at the bottom of the step for some time, but was
obligated to move to a more shelterous situation, as I am suffering from
a stiff neck.”
“You _wote_ for me!” exclaimed Boy, “whatever do you mean?”
“Wote, past participle of the verb to wait. Wait, wite, wote, you know,”
answered the Soldier.
“Hee, hee, hee! Isn’t he a cure?” laughed the Grig, winking at Boy, and
twirling about at such a rate that it made Boy quite giddy to look at
him.
“He’s been crossed in love, and it’s touched his brain--ha, ha, ha!--he
fancies that he has invented a new system of Grammar. What a lark!
Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho!” and he rolled about in an uncontrollable fit of
laughter.
“Well, of all the extraordinary individuals that I have ever met,”
thought Boy, “these two are certainly the most remarkable! I wonder
which of them is to show me the way to Sand Castle. I had better ask.”
“Mr. Officer,” he began, for he thought that would be a polite way of
addressing the Soldier.
“His name’s One-and-Nine,” interrupted the Grig “What a name! Ha, ha,
ha! Hee, hee!”
“The vulgarocity of this individual is unbearacious,” exclaimed
One-and-Nine angrily. “Let us leave him.”
“Oh! I wish to be directed to Sand Castle,” said Boy. “Can you please
show me the way?”
“That is the purposeness of my being here,” replied One-and-Nine. “Step
this way, please,” he said, as he walked stiffly forward.
The Grig did not seem to mind them going in the least, and kept on
dancing about and shrieking with laughter.
“Good-bye, old Wooden Head!” he shouted. “You are as good as a pantomime
any day, you are! Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee!” and the sound of his laughter
grew fainter and fainter as they walked quickly away from him.
“That Grig will come to a lamentuous end unless he reformationises,”
remarked One-and-Nine severely.
“He seems to be in very high spirits about something,” said Boy.
“Yes, that’s the worst of these Grigs,” replied One-and-Nine, “they
never seem to considerise the unenjoyability of jollyosity; they seem to
think that life is all jubilaceous, whereas it is rather more otherwise
than otherwise.”
“Oh dear! oh dear! I do wish this man would talk in a way that I could
understand,” thought Boy. “Have we very far to go?” he asked at length,
as they walked along in the moonlight.
“About half as far again as half,” answered One-and-Nine absently. “I
beg your pardon, I mean we shall be there with considerable soonness.
You must excuse me being a little upset; I have recently suffered the
same affliction as yourself.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Boy.
“I’ve been reduced,” answered One-and-Nine sorrowfully. “You’ve been
reduced too,” he said, “but only in size. I’ve come down in price, which
is far more serious. I was once Two-and-Three,” he added regretfully.
“Oh! then you are the _other chap_ that Pierrot sang about,” said Boy,
“and the Dolly-girl jilted you, didn’t she, and----”
“That’s not a matter of the slightest consequentially,” interrupted
One-and-Nine; “she was a person of frivolaceous character, and though
I am bound to admit that at one time I did devotionise her with
considerable muchness, I have since found out that she was
totally unworthy of my admirosity. Tin Soldier indeed!” he went on
contemptuously, evidently referring to his rival, “why, he couldn’t
stand fire at all; he would melt! I don’t deny that he looks very well
on parade, but he would be no good in action. However, she has chosen to
marry him and she must abide by the consequences. If people will
marry _tin_, they must be prepared to find that it _melts?_ he added
sententiously.
“Oh! there’s Sand Castle, I suppose!” cried Boy, as some lights appeared
in the distance.
“Yes,” replied One-and-Nine, “here we are!”
Boy could see when they reached the gates that it was the very Castle
which he had so much admired in the morning. “And I am just the right
size to go in, just as I wished to do,” he thought gleefully.
A regiment of toy soldiers were drawn up before the gate and saluted as
Boy and One-and-Nine entered.
Mr. and Mrs. Waxxe-Doll stood at the entrance to welcome their guests.
Mrs. Waxxe-Doll was a very grand-looking personage in most fashionable
attire, whilst her husband was not a wax doll at all, but a wooden and
cardboard person with very thin, straight legs, and a large body and
head which wobbled about when he was touched.
“So pleased to see you,” said Mrs. Waxxe-Doll in a languid voice,
shaking hands with Boy, and holding her hand nearly on a level with
her head in doing so. “My husband,” she said, introducing Boy, and then
walking away.
“How do you do, sir?” said Boy, holding out his hand politely.
“What’s that to do with you?” exclaimed Mr. Wraxxe-Doll fiercely.
“People have been asking me that silly question all the evening. Do you
think I’ve got nothing better to do than stand here and answer foolish
conundrums like that? I wonder you don’t say it’s a fine evening and
have done with it! All the other folks have been saying that too, one
after the other, like a lot of brainless lunatics. ‘How do you do? It’s
a fine evening!’ Bah! If you haven’t anything better to talk about than
that, you had better have stopped away!” And Mr. Waxxe-Doll glared at
Boy till he felt quite alarmed.
“Don’t mind him,” said One-and-Nine, “it’s his way--come along!” and
he led the way into the Dancing Hall where the festivities were in full
swing. All kinds of toys were represented, and it was indeed, as Pierrot
had said it would be, a very mixed gathering.
[Illustration: 0040]
The guests were principally dolls dressed in the most varied of
costumes, from silks, brocades and satins, to black paint; some
fastidious-looking young gentlemen with fair curled hair, and dressed
in pale blue knitted suits, were leaning against the wall in affected
attitudes, and a whole group of Dutch dolls were gathered around a
military-looking person in a cocked hat lolling luxuriously on an
ottoman at one end of the room. There was a Toy Band at the other end,
which looked very imposing, but which Boy found out was only for show,
the Musicians only pretending to perform, while the music was really
supplied by a musical box hidden away at the back. A number of dolls
were dancing a polka when Boy and One-and-Nine entered, so they sat down
on a rout-seat near the door and watched them.
A supercilious-looking doll in evening dress sat next to Boy, fanning
herself fussily.
“Very mixed lot of people here,” she began, without the slightest
introduction. “I should not have come if I had known what to expect. Are
you a friend of Mr. Waxxe-Doll’s?” she asked.
“No, I’ve never met him before,” replied Boy.
“Ah! vulgar person, very--plenty of money, though--likes to be thought
grand. Of course he isn’t a Waxxe-Doll at all. His wife was a Waxxe and
he took her name--it looks very well joined to his with a hyphen, you
know. Mrs. Waxxe-Doll is of French descent, and gives herself airs
in consequence. They’ve hired this Castle for the season at enormous
expense, but bless you, they are nobodies! See that vulgar-looking old
lady in the corner--with a pipe in her mouth--they call her Ancient Aunt
Sarah; but she’s nothing of the sort. Everybody knows her; she’s just
‘_Old Aunt Sally, three-shies-a-penny_,’ so it’s no use their trying to
disguise the fact. Look at those two,” she went on, as two dolls in very
straight narrow dresses danced past, “what guys! But there, what can you
expect? They came out of the ark, I believe.”
And Boy could see that they really did look like the figures out of
Noah’s Ark.
The music stopped just then, and most of the dolls went out into the
grounds to get cool; and Boy, who did not at all care for the spiteful
little person who had been letting him into all the Waxxe-Doll’s family
secrets, thought that he would follow their example.
One-and-Nine had wandered off by himself, so Boy had no one to talk to.
He found the grounds brilliantly illuminated with little wax vestas
stuck in the sand, and the toy trees and rustic bridges looked quite
pretty in the light. Three or four Gentlemen dolls were playing a kind
of game by the pond, and asked Boy to join them. He found that it was
called “Stock Brokers,” and he soon learned how to play it.
Each had a large sheet of blue paper which was called a “Stock,” and
which when torn in half became a “Share.” These pieces of paper were
thrown into the air, and the game consisted in blowing under these
pieces of paper, or “raising the wind,” as it was called, in order to
keep them floating: the one who kept his “Share” or “Stock” from falling
longest won the game. Boy quite enjoyed playing it until one of his
“Shares” fell to the ground, and then he was “broke,” as they called it,
and so he lost the game.
[Illustration: 0043]
A crowd of dolls hurrying back to the Castle next attracted his
attention, and, following them inside, he heard it announced that
Sergeant One-and-Nine was about to recite. Boy was very glad to hear
this, and managed to push forward to where One-and-Nine was standing.
The Master of Ceremonies was bustling about trying to find every one a
seat; and at last, when the room was quite quiet, One-and-Nine began the
following poem, which had been composed by himself:--=
THE MUS RIDICULOUS AND THE FELIS DOMESTICA.
``"A Cat amidst the Burdock leaves
```Sat all disconsolate,
``And sadsomely did wop and wole
``And role against her fate.=
``"'Ah! hollow, hollow,’ wole the Cat,
```'Is all Societee,
``And falshish shamiosity
```In all around I see.’=
``"'Oh! why,’ I crew in sympathy,
```'Lamentuate like that?
``Pray tell me all your sorrowness’;
```And down I flumply sat.=
``"The Cat did then all sobbishly
```Her woesome tale repeat.
``'This world is full of mockishness,
```And also of deceit.=
``"'For why? This mom at dawnitude
```A mouse I did espy;
``'Twas running whirligigishly
```Beneath my very eye.=
``'And feeling somewhat breakfastish
```I straightway gave a spring,
``And landed right upon the back
```Of that activeous thing.=
``"'To my surprise it did not squeak,
```And neither did it squeal;
``And as ‘twas rather littleish,
```I ate it at one meal.=
``"'I much regret my hastiness,
```For soon, to my dismay,
``'Twas acting most unmouseishly,
```In an eccentric way.=
``"''Twas what they term a _clockwork_ mouse,
```And governed by a spring;
``Its works behaved revolvingly,
```And hurt like anything.=
``"'Oh! tell me, is life livable
```When things go on like that?
``When clockwork mice and feathered shams
```Impose upon a Cat?'=
``"I could not answer her, and so
```I softly snoke away;
``I felt that ‘twould be synicish
``To wish that Cat ‘Good-day.’”=
All the company applauded vigorously at the conclusion of the
recitation; and whilst the clapping was still going on a black
india-rubber doll rushed in with a very scared face and cried out, “The
tide is coming in!” and there was immediately a great commotion
throughout the room.
The company rushed helter-skelter to the gate, where they could see that
the tide had indeed risen so high as to cut off all communication with
the shore. Mr. Waxxe-Doll was stamping about in fury.
“See what comes of all this tomfoolery! Parties, indeed! and hiring Sand
Castles for a lot of scatterbrains to make idiots of themselves in! Wait
till I get safely home again on my shelf, and you don’t catch me giving
any more parties, I can tell you.”
The remainder of the dolls were rushing madly about, wringing their
hands and crying that they should all be drowned. One-and-Nine seemed to
be the only person able to suggest anything.
“Here is a plank,” he said, pointing to one which had been left on the
sand; “we had better all get on to it, and the tide will carry us back
to the shore.”
[Illustration: 0048]
The proposal was hailed with delight by the rest, and they all scrambled
on to the plank and waited events. The elaborately dressed dolls in silk
and satin held up their dainty skirts so that they should not get wet;
whilst the Dutch dolls sat in a row on the edge of the plank with their
legs dangling over the side.
Ancient Aunt Sarah threw conventionality to the winds, and lighted up
her pipe, at which Mrs. Waxxe-Doll was so shocked that in her agitation
she dropped her fan over the side of the plank.
Boy very politely jumped down to fetch it for her, and as he was
stepping back a huge wave came rolling up and carried off the plank with
all the dolls on it, wetting Boy through to the skin and leaving him
standing alone on the wet sand. As the plank with its cargo of screaming
dolls floated away, One-and-Nine shouted out, “I will meet you again at
Zum,” just as they disappeared behind a rock standing out of the sea.