THE LITTLE PANJANDRUM”S BALLOON.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” said the Archæopteryx, when the necessary introductions had been made. “I’ve often wanted to meet some human beings; come and have luncheon with me. I’ve a couple of old friends staying here who will be delighted to see you.” So saying, he led the way to where two most extraordinary-looking creatures sat waiting at a table, which was set for seven people.
“Both antediluvians,” whispered their host, “the Palæotherium and the Eterædarium. Capital chaps, but crotchety.”
Fidge was a little alarmed at first, for they were really very ugly. They seemed quite amiable, however; and the Palæotherium—his mouth full of banana—motioned them to seats at the table, and, turning to the Dodo, said, “Haven’t I seen you before?”
The Dodo smirked, and, smoothing his gloves, said, in a self-conscious voice, “Very possibly we may have met before. I don’t remember you, but mine is a face which one is not likely to forget. Where did we meet, do you think?”
“I’m trying to remember,” said the Palæotherium, “it must have been several hundreds of years ago now, and my memory is getting so bad——”
“I once stayed with the Ichthyosaurus,” said the Dodo. “It may have been there.”
“Ah, that must have been it,” said the Palæotherium. “I met a curious lot of people there—very mixed lot of associates he had, to be sure.”
“Ahem,” said the Dodo, indignantly. “I hope you don’t mean that I——”
“My dear Sir,” replied the other, “I’m quite sure you are highly respectable; your gloves alone are a guarantee for that.”
“Thanks,” said the Dodo, looking quite happy again.
“Do you know any riddles?” asked the Eterædarium, suddenly, addressing Dick.
“Let’s see,” said he, glad that the conversation had taken a turn which they could all understand. “I think I do know a few. Why is a robin like a waterbut?”
“First of all,” said the Archæopteryx, anxiously, “what is a robin, and who is a waterbut?”
“Oh, a robin,” explained Marjorie, “is a dear little bird with a red breast that comes in the winter——”
“Stop! stop!” said the Palæotherium, “one thing at a time. What is a bird?”
“Oh, I say! You must know what a bird is,” expostulated Dick.
“I don’t,” said the Palæotherium, stubbornly.
“Why—why—the Dodo is a bird,” explained Dick.
“Yes, but nothing like a robin, Dick, dear,” added Marjorie; “a robin is such a sweet, pretty little thing——”
“Well, I never!” exclaimed the Dodo, “do you mean to say I’m not a pretty little thing?”
“Well, you’re not quite like a robin, are you?” said Marjorie, getting out of the difficulty very cleverly.
“Not quite, perhaps,” admitted the Dodo; “but I am pretty,” he added decidedly.
“I don’t see what all this has to do with my conundrum,” said Dick.
“Well, let’s try again,” said the Archæopteryx. “Why is a robin like a waterbut?”
“A robin is a bird that comes in the winter,” repeated the Eterædarium, “and the waterbut—is that also a bird?”
“Oh, no,” laughed Marjorie; “a waterbut is a tub for holding water.”
“Can it fly?” asked the Eterædarium.
“Of course not!” said Dick; “who ever heard of such a thing?”
“Well, is it like a robin? That’s the point,” said the Palæotherium.
“Not in appearance,” admitted Dick. “Will you give it up?” he added, looking around the table.
“Give what up?” asked the creatures.
“The conundrum,” replied Dick.
“I haven’t got it,” declared the Dodo.
“Nor have I.” “Nor I.” “Nor I,” said the others.
“No, no! I mean, will you give the answer up?” said Dick, losing patience.
“But we haven’t it,” said the Archæopteryx.
“Look here, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said the Palæotherium, generously: “I’ll give up the robin, and my friend here will give up the waterbut. There!”
“Now that’s settled,” said the Dodo, conclusively, “I’ll ask you a conundrum. ”If your wife’s aunt is——””
“Stop! stop!” said the Palæotherium, “I haven’t got a wife, you know.”
“No,” said the Eterædarium, “he hasn’t, and, if he had, she very likely would not have an aunt. Make it my wife’s aunt.”
“All right,” said the Dodo. “If your wife’s aunt is my brother’s son, what relation is Dick to Tom?”
“You haven’t asked it right,” said Dick, who knew a riddle something like that. “It’s ”if this man’s father is that man’s son, what relation is Dick to Tom?””
“I wish you wouldn’t interfere,” said the Dodo. “I tell you the question is right as I asked it.”
“But your wife’s aunt couldn’t be anybody’s son,” said Marjorie, who was trying to puzzle it out.
“Who said she was?” snapped the Dodo, crossly; “she is as likely to be anybody’s son as a robin is to be like a waterbut, and besides, I didn’t say she was; I said, if she was, you know.”
“Well, let’s work it out,” said the Eterædarium, spreading out his fingers. “Let’s see, that’s my wife’s aunt,” he continued, pointing to his thumb, “and that’s my brother’s son,” he added, touching the next finger, “and the other two will do for Dick and Tom. Now—er——”
“Who is the other finger?” interrupted the Dodo, anxiously.
“Me,” said the Palæotherium, solemnly and ungrammatically.
“It isn’t,” declared the other.
“It is,” repeated the Palæotherium.
“Oh, very well! let it be so,” cried the Archæopteryx, impatiently. “What’s the answer, anyhow?”
"'Who is the other finger?' interrupted the Dodo, anxiously."
“I don’t know,” said the Eterædarium, staring at his fingers stupidly. “I don’t see what relation those two fingers are to the other two. Well, what relation is Dick to Tom?” he asked, turning to the Dodo.
“The same relation that the robin is to the waterbut,” said that bird, conclusively. “Come on, let’s get the Skipper to teach us how to dance a hornpipe,” and he led the way from the table, quite disregarding the fact that the others had not finished.
The Skipper, who had been quite as puzzled as the others were by these extraordinary conundrums, willingly agreed, and, first of all, danced a hornpipe himself very successfully, and then did his best to teach the others.
The Dodo, with his short legs and big body, very soon gave up trying, and, thoroughly worn out by the exertion, lay panting on the shingle, while the Eterædarium took his turn. He got along capitally, and the children laughed heartily at the queer capers which he cut.
They were in the midst of the fun, when the Dodo suddenly jumped up, and, pointing excitedly up into the air, cried, “Look! Look! What’s that?”
They all looked in the direction which he indicated, and after a time discerned a tiny speck in the sky, which the Skipper declared, after watching some time, to be a balloon.
“It’s all red,” cried Marjorie, whose eyesight was very keen.
“What!” exclaimed the Dodo, trembling. “Red! Are you sure?” he inquired, anxiously.
“Certain,” said Marjorie.
“Yes,” said Dick, “I can see it now; it’s quite red—a bright scarlet, in fact.”
"The Eterædarium took his turn."
“The Little Panjandrum’s State Balloon!” gasped the Dodo, in a terrible fright. “Oh, my dear friends, hide me somewhere! If he finds me I’m done for! I’ve—got—his gloves on—oh! How could I have been so foolish as to have taken them—it’s all my pride—and now I shall have to suffer for it—oh!—oh!” And the Dodo, quite overcome with fear and anxiety, fell upon his knees and sobbed violently.
Meanwhile the state balloon belonging to His Importance the Little Panjandrum rapidly drew near.