THE PREHISTORIC DOCTOR.
“I can’t imagine,” said Dick, “why you think such a lot of those wretched old gloves. They seem to have got you into quite enough trouble already.”
“They look so respectable,” explained the Dodo, “and give one such an air. You have never before seen a bird wearing gloves, now, have you?” he added, appealing to the company generally, who were obliged to flatter his vanity by confessing that they never had.
Dick, however, in a spirit of pure mischief, decided to play him a trick. So, when the Dodo, having put on one glove, strutted away to show off before the Archæopteryx, leaving the other one behind him, Dick quickly picked it up and put it on himself, then calling to aid the power which the Panjandrum’s Ambassador had given him of being able to make himself whatever size he wished, he cried, “I wish to be as big as the biggest giant that ever lived,” and immediately became so tall that the Palæotherium and the Eterædarium, who were standing near, fled in dismay, while Marjorie and Fidge looked up with the greatest of admiration to their now big—big brother.
Dick then telling them, in a voice that sounded like thunder, to stand aside, took off the glove, which had, of course, grown with him, and threw it on to the ground, where it lay a huge mass of coarse leather as many feet long as it had formerly been inches, and with buttons almost as big as dinner plates.
It was, of course, the easiest matter imaginable for Dick to reduce himself to his proper size again, while the glove remained as it was, and this he very quickly did, to the evident relief of the poor Palæotherium and the Eterædarium, who had been trembling and quaking behind a clump of trees, and looking with the greatest disquietude at these extraordinary proceedings.
“This is fine growing weather, Sir,” remarked the Palæotherium, respectfully, as he came forward and stood by Dick beside the enormous glove.
"'Is that it?' asked Dick."
Dick laughed, and rather delighted in the evident impression which he had made upon the creatures by his performance, and a moment after the Dodo returned, looking about him eagerly in search of his lost property.
“What’s the matter?” inquired Dick, solicitously.
“Er—have any of you seen a white kid glove lying about?” said the Dodo, anxiously.
“Is that it?” asked Dick, pointing to the enormous object lying at his feet.
The Dodo gave a start.
“Er—er—oh—my!” he exclaimed. “I do believe—why, surely it isn’t—yes—yes—bless me, if I don’t believe that it really is my glove. Why, whatever has happened to it?”
“It certainly looks rather large for you,” remarked the Palæotherium.
“Large! why it’s prodigious!” exclaimed the Dodo.
“What size do you wear?” asked Marjorie, who was enjoying the fun.
The Dodo undid the glove which he had on and looked inside.
“Sevens,” he remarked.
“And this,” said Dick, kicking the enormous glove open, “is marked ninety-nines!”
“I don’t believe I could wear that size,” said the bird, disconsolately. “Whatever is to be done?”
“I should get inside it altogether, if I were you,” suggested Dick.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the Dodo, beginning to cry. “It’s bad enough to—to—have one’s gloves car—carrying on in this fas-fashion, without being laughed at by—by a parcel of cre—creatures that don’t care anything about their per—per—personal appearance, and who—who nev—never wore a p—p—pair of gloves in their lives!”
“Oh!” cried Marjorie, “I’m sure we wear gloves when we are at home, don’t we, Dick?”
“Of course,” said he.
“And me, too,” declared Fidge; “me wears goves.”
“I don’t believe it,” sobbed the Dodo; “and if I did, I wouldn’t, so there!”
“I think you are an awful cry-baby,” said Dick; “I should be ashamed, if I were you, to be always sniveling about nothing.”
The Dodo didn’t answer, but sat down beside the enormous glove, and continued to sob and cry till his eyes, which were never very beautiful, became swollen and red, and his little lace handkerchief was wringing wet with his tears.
Marjorie, in her kind-hearted way, tried to comfort him, and privately suggested to Dick that, as the poor bird seemed so very much cut up about his glove, that he should restore it to its natural size again.
This, however, Dick positively refused to do for the present, and the Dodo becoming worse instead of better, the Archæopteryx said he should go and fetch a doctor.
“Oh, do!” cried the Dodo, sitting up, and becoming interested at once. “I love doctors, they give you such nice stuff to take.”
“Ough!” shuddered Marjorie.
“I’m sure they do, then,” said the Dodo; “lovely little pills with sugar on them, and powders in jam—oh, lovely! Don’t you think powders in jam delicious?” he asked, appealing to Dick.
“No; I certainly don’t,” was the reply, as the Archæopteryx, followed by a funny-looking little old man, came running back.
The Prehistoric Doctor—for so the children found he was called—was dressed in a coarse coat made of bear’s skin, under which was a spotless shirt-front and collar; an old-fashioned pair of horn-rimmed spectacles completed his costume, while some dangerous-looking surgical instruments projected from a rough pocket tacked on to the side of his coat.
"'Tut, tut, this is serious,' said the Doctor."
“Ah!—h’m! and how are we feeling this morning?” he said, kindly, going up to the Dodo.
The bird turned up his eyes pathetically and gave a sigh.
“Like a dying duck in a thunderstorm,” whispered Dick, and Marjorie had to hold her handkerchief to her mouth to keep from giggling out loud.
“Ah! How is the pulse?” continued the Doctor, in a soothing voice.
The Dodo gravely extended the pinion with the glove on it.
This seemed to puzzle the Doctor a little at first, but after looking at it for a moment through his spectacles, he fished an enormous silver watch out of another pocket in his skin coat, and carefully pinching the glove between his finger and thumb, regarding his timepiece anxiously.
This operation over, he shook his head gravely, and demanded to see the Dodo’s tongue.
“Oh! I couldn’t!” simpered the bird; “I really couldn’t; it’s so rude to put out one’s tongue, you know.”
A little persuasion, however, on the part of the Doctor prevailed upon him to open his enormous beak, and the examination was proceeded with.
"They hurried to the station."
“Tut! tut! this is serious!” exclaimed the Doctor, regarding the Dodo’s tongue critically. “We must have a change of air immediately, and thorough rest. I will go and make you up a little prescription, and I would advise you to start at once. The air at—er—the Crystal Palace would suit you admirably. There is an excursion starting to-day. I should certainly go by that if I were you.”
“The Crystal Palace! Why, that’s near London!” cried Marjorie, excitedly. “Can’t we go by the excursion, too?”
“Of course you can,” chimed in the Palæotherium; “we’ll all go, and make up a nice little family party.”
So, without further ado—the Doctor having made up his prescription, consisting of a large bottle of “bull’s eyes,” one to be taken every quarter of an hour—they hurried to the station, at the door of which a most energetic porter was ringing a huge bell.