“Sh!” whispered the Dodo, “a Missionary! I have seen them before, when abroad. In some places they are greatly admired by the natives, some of whom have described them enthusiastically as being simply delicious! Let us be friendly to him; he is, no doubt, a very excellent man.
“My dear Sir,” he continued, waddling up to the Missionary, “delighted to see you looking so well.”
The Missionary, who was very short-sighted, beamed kindly, and grasped the Dodo’s glove, while he peered up into his face through his glasses. On catching sight of his beak, however, he gave a gasp of astonishment, and stammered—
“I’m afraid, Sir, you’ve made a mistake. I—er—I—er—don’t remember your face.”
“Oh, well, it is some time since we met, certainly; but perhaps you know my friend?” said the Dodo, introducing the Eterædarium, who came forward with an engaging grin.
The poor Missionary gave him a hasty glance through his glasses, and then, nervously clutching his guide book and umbrella, muttered something about “an important engagement,” and fled in the direction of the big clock.
“Strange how nervous everybody is in my presence,” murmured the Dodo, conceitedly. “It’s doubtless my beauty and brilliant wit which alarms them; but, come on, let’s go out to the lake, and I’ll take you for a row.”
"The Dodo was a muff at rowing."