“Oh, not very well, I’m afraid,” said the Pelican. “You see, there has been no one to take the lead since you’ve been away. We tried a Republican form of government, and elected Oom-Hi as president, but he became so extravagant—wanted a new top-hat every day, and insisted on a gilded coach to ride in; and at last we caught him tampering with the public funds, so we had to dismiss him. Have you heard about Broncho?”
“No,” said his Majesty.
“Well, it didn’t answer as a cough mixture, so Oom-Hi turned it into a patent meat extract, and called it Vimbril, and it killed ever so many people.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the Wallypug, anxiously. “Any one I know?”
“Madame and a few other folk,” was the reply; “and the Doctor-in-Law is not expected to recover.”
“Good gracious! Why, we thought them at the other end of the world. However did they get back to Why again?”
“Oh, they sent us a cablegram when they got to China, and we let down an enormously long rope and pulled them up the shute again, you know. But it was a very long journey, and they had nothing to eat on the way. So as soon as we hauled them up we gave them each a large dose of Vimbril. Madame expired at once,” he added, with a sob.
The tears were streaming down the Turtle’s nose as he sympathetically joined in the Pelican’s weeping.
“What about the Doctor-in-Law?” inquired his Majesty, solicitously.
“Oh, he has a very strong constitution, you know, and he may pull through. We’ve got him back at the palace in his old quarters.”