“Oh! really Wallypug, this is so sudden,” said the Crocodile, smirking, “I’d no idea you were so affectionate. I’m so bashful, too. I couldn’t really think of kissing you in public.”
“No, no!” explained his Majesty hastily—“Kis-Smee is the dog’s name; you asked me what his name was, you know.”
“Oh!” said the Crocodile, looking greatly disappointed. “I misunderstood you. Very sorry, I’m sure. Well, what are you going to do now?”
His Majesty told him of the meeting in the afternoon, and the Crocodile promised to come.
“That is,” he added, “if I may bring my invalid with me.”
“Who is that?” asked the Wallypug.
“Oh! a very feeble old joke I’ve got staying with me,” said the Crocodile. “I could bring him in the perambulator, you know—the one I used to wheel the weak cup of tea about in—he’s such a nice old man.”
“What is he, did you say?” asked his Majesty.
“An old joke,” repeated the Crocodile, “his name is Joe Miller, and he eats nothing but chestnuts, and even they have to be very ancient before he can digest them. Oh! he’s a character, I can tell you. Make you die of laughing the first time you meet him; but as he always says the same thing over and over again—for hours and hours, he is rather trying at times. However, I will bring him along, and you can judge for yourself.”