“Oh, id’s quide cured, thags; dote you dotice how butch better I speak?”
“I’m very glad to hear it, I’m sure,” I replied, waiving the question and trying to keep solemn. “What’s all this row about?”
“Oh! thad’s the troubadour, up to his old gabes agaid; he’s ad awful dusadce. I’ll tell you aboud hib in the bordig—good dight.” And A. Fish, Esq., disappeared from view.
CHAPTER IV.
LATE FOR BREAKFAST.
I awoke very early in the morning, just as it was daylight, and being unable to get to sleep again amid my strange surroundings, I arose and crept down-stairs as noiselessly as possible, intending to go for a long walk before breakfast.
At the bottom of the stairs I came upon a strange-looking white object, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be the Pelican, asleep on the floor.
He was not sleeping as any respectable bird would have done, with his head tucked under his wing; but was lying stretched out on a rug in the hall, with his head resting on a cushion. His enormous beak was wide open, and he was snoring violently, and muttering uneasily in his sleep.
THE PELICAN WAS SNORING VIOLENTLY.
I did not disturb him for fear lest he should make a noise; but hurrying past him I made my way to the hall door, which after a little difficulty I succeeded in unfastening. An ancient-looking turtle with a white apron was busily cleaning the steps, and started violently as I made my appearance at the door.
“Bless my shell and fins!” he muttered; “what’s the creature wandering about this time of the morning for; they’ll be getting up in the middle of the night next. Just mind where you’re treading, please!” he called out. “The steps have been cleaned, and I don’t want to have to do them all over again.”
I managed to get down without doing much damage, and then remarked pleasantly:
“Good morning; have you——”
“No, I haven’t,” interrupted the Turtle snappishly; “and what’s more, I don’t want to.”
“What do you mean?” I inquired, in surprise.
“Soap!” was the reply.
“I don’t understand you,” I exclaimed.
“You’re an advertisement for somebody’s soap, aren’t you?” asked the Turtle.
“Certainly not,” I replied, indignantly.
“Your first remark sounded very much like it,” said the Turtle suspiciously. “ ‘Good morning, have you used——’ ”
“I wasn’t going to say that at all,” I interrupted. “I was merely going to ask if you could oblige me with a light.”
“Oh, that’s another thing entirely,” said the Turtle, handing me some matches from his waistcoat pocket, and accepting a cigarette in return. “But really we have got so sick of those advertisement catchwords since the Doctor-in-Law returned from London with agencies for all sorts of things, that we hate the very sound of them. We are continually being told to ‘Call a spade a spade,’ which will be ‘grateful and comforting’ to ‘an ox in a teacup’ who is ‘worth a guinea a box,’ and who ‘won’t be happy till he gets it.’ ”
“It must be very trying,” I murmured sympathetically.
“Oh, it is,” remarked the Turtle. “Well,” he continued in a business-like tone, “I’m sorry you can’t stop—good morning.”
“I didn’t say anything about going,” I ejaculated.
“Oh, didn’t you? Well, I did then,” said the Turtle emphatically. “Move on, please!”
“You’re very rude,” I remarked.
“Think so?” said the Turtle pleasantly. “That’s all right then—good-by,” and he flopped down on his knees and resumed his scrubbing.
THE TURTLE FLOPPED DOWN ON HIS KNEES AND RESUMED HIS SCRUBBING.
There was nothing for me to do but to walk on, and seeing a quaint-looking old rose garden in the distance, I decided to go over and explore.
I was walking slowly along the path leading to it, when I heard a curious clattering noise behind me, and turning around I beheld the Troubadour, still in his armor, dragging a large standard rosebush along the ground.
“As if it were not enough,” he grumbled, “to be maltreated as I am every night, without having all this trouble every morning. I declare it is enough to make you throw stones at your grandfather.”
“What’s the matter?” I ventured to ask of the little man.
“Matter?” was the reply. “Why, these wretched rosebushes, they will get out their beds at night, and wander about. I happened to leave the gate open last night, and this one got out, and goodness knows where he would have been by this time if I hadn’t caught him meandering about near the Palace.”
“Why! I’ve never heard of such a thing as a rosebush walking about,” I exclaimed in surprise.
“IN YOU GO!”
“Never heard of a——. Absurd!” declared the Troubadour, incredulously. “Of course they do. That’s what you have hedges and fences around the gardens for, isn’t it? Why, you can’t have been in a garden at night-time, or you wouldn’t talk such nonsense. All the plants are allowed to leave their beds at midnight. They are expected to be back again by daylight, though, and not go wandering about goodness knows where like this beauty,” and he shook the rosebush violently.
“In you go,” he continued, digging a hole with the point of his mailed foot, and sticking the rosebush into it.
“Hullo!” he exclaimed, going up to another one, at the foot of which were some broken twigs and crumpled leaves. “You’ve been fighting, have you? I say, it’s really too bad!”
“But what does it matter to you?” I inquired. “It’s very sad, no doubt, but I don’t see why you should upset yourself so greatly about it.”
“Well, you see,” was the reply, “I’m the head gardener here as well as Troubadour, and so am responsible for all these things. I do troubing as an extra,” he explained. “Three shillings a week and my armor. Little enough, isn’t it, considering the risk?”
“Well, the office certainly does not seem overpopular, judging from last night,” I laughed. “Who were you serenading?”
“Oh, any one,” was the reply. “I give it to them in turns. If any one offends me in the daytime I pay them out at night, see?
“I serenaded the Sister-in-Law mostly, but I shall give that up. She doesn’t play fair. I don’t mind people shying things at me in the least, for you see I’m pretty well protected; but when it comes to chivying me round the garden with a pair of tongs, it’s more than I bargained for. Look out! Here comes the Wallypug,” he continued.
Sure enough his Majesty was walking down the path, attended by A. Fish, Esq., who was wearing a cap and gown and carrying a huge book.
“Ah! good morning—good morning,” cried his Majesty,