Tom asked his way to her, and the King of the Herrings told him very kindly, for he was a courteous old gentleman of the old school, though he was horribly ugly, and strangely bedizened too, like the old dandies who lounge in clubhouse windows.
But just as Tom had thanked him and set off, he called after him, "Hi! I say, can you fly?"
"I never tried," said Tom. "Why?"
"Because, if you can, I should advise you to say nothing to the old lady about it. There; take a hint. Good-bye."
And away Tom went for seven days and seven nights due northwest, till he came to a great cod-bank, the like of which he never saw before.
And there he saw the last of the Gairfowl, standing up on the Allalonestone, all alone. And a very grand old lady she was, full three feet high, and bolt upright, like some old Highland chieftainess. She had on a black velvet gown, and a white pinner and apron, and a very high bridge to her nose (which is a sure mark of high breeding), and a large pair of white spectacles on it, which made her look rather odd; [Footnote: The great auks were dark above and white beneath, and had huge white spots about their eyes.] but it was the ancient fashion of her house.
And instead of wings, she had two little feathery arms, with which she fanned herself, and complained of the dreadful heat.
Tom came up to her very humbly, and made his bow; and the first thing she said was:
"Have you wings? Can you fly?"
"Oh, dear, no, ma'am; I should not think of such a thing," said cunning little Tom.