At last, disappointed that nothing had happened, she went to the match-box. "Perhaps," said she, "if I touch a match to it something will happen." She did so, and, to her great surprise, something did happen, and that at once.
A cloud of heavy vapor filled the room, and as it cleared away the Widow Pickle saw standing there, bowing and smiling very pleasantly, a little dark man, whom at first she took to be a Japanese. He had black hair, rolled very tight on the top of his head; small feet, incased in boots with long up-turned toes; and a loose flowing mantle of red satin. His hands were small, and his little black eyes twinkled merrily.
"Madam, I believe you have sent for me," he remarked.
"Indeed, I did not," said the Widow Pickle. "Moreover, I don't know who you are. Whence do you come, sir, and why do you intrude without invitation?"
"Who should I be," said the little man, still smiling pleasantly, "but the Private Secretary and Court Musician of the royal monarch of the Island, the King of Gee-Whiz?"
"The King of Gee-Whiz?" said the Widow Pickle. "I never heard of such a person."
"Then, madam," replied the little man sternly, "grant me leave to tell you that you must be an extraordinarily ignorant person. Every one of consequence knows of his Royal Highness, who rules our Island."
"And, pray, what do you have in your Island, little man?" asked the Widow Pickle scornfully.
"Many things," replied the strange little man, "more than I should like to tell you all at once."
"Gold, perhaps?" asked the Widow.