The Kangaroo rummaged about and discovered a small hard piece of yellow soap, and Oom Hi brought forth a good sized sponge, and together they gave the poor little Wallypug such a scrubbing as I should think he had never had before in all his life.
“Ough! ough!” spluttered his Majesty. “You’re putting it all in my eyes. Oh, ach! do-o-on’t! Stop! I say, do leave off. Ough!”
The poor little fellow was nearly choked.
Oom Hi sponged the soap away and the Cockatoo stared critically at the poor Wallypug, who stood there with the water streaming from his face and the tips of his fingers.
“Hasn’t done the slightest good,” she declared; “better scrape him with a putty knife, I think.”
“Stop a minute!” said the Kangaroo, “I have it,” and he went up and whispered something in Oom Hi’s ear.
“Capital! capital! go and fetch a bottle,” cried Oom Hi, and the Kangaroo rushed off, returning a minute later with a large bottle marked Vimbril.
“Oh! don’t! don’t!” cried the poor Wallypug. “I’m not going to take any of that stuff. It killed the lady who called herself my Sister-in-Law you know, and it made the Doctor-in-Law ill. Take it away.”
“Of course you are not going to take any, Wallypug,” said Oom Hi soothingly, “but there will be no harm in trying the effect upon your complexion. It might make you the proper color again you know, and in that case I could alter the name and call it ‘Wallypug’s Blush,’ and advertise it well; no doubt it would be a great success. Put some on the sponge,” he continued, holding it out to the Kangaroo, who poured out some of the nasty looking stuff.
“No! no! don’t. Ough!” shuddered his Majesty, but despite his protests his face was well rubbed with the fluid.