“You didn’t tell me you had all these hideous objects with you,” continued the Ambassador, addressing the Dodo.
“I thought you knew,” stammered the unlucky bird; “they are prehistoric, you know,” he added, apologetically.
There was some consolation, he was allowed to wear his gloves.
“That only makes it worse,” declared the Ambassador. “In that case they ought to be dead, every one of them, ever so long ago. They have no right to be prowling about at a highly-respectable place like the Crystal Palace. No wonder there’s nobody about; they’ve frightened them away, that’s what it is. And you’re to blame as much as anybody for bringing them here.”
“I didn’t!” gasped the Dodo.
“You did,” said the Ambassador, emphatically. “You said they were your friends; so they must have come with you. And I’ll tell you what, in order to prevent you from picking up any more undesirable acquaintances, you shall just commence your duties as Umbrella Bearer at once,” and, untying the ribbons by which the Little Panjandrum’s attendant was attached to His Importance, the Ambassador, bringing forth a heavy pair of chains from his capacious pockets, proceeded to chain the Dodo up to the Little Panjandrum’s waistband.
The poor Dodo looked the picture of misery as the Umbrella was put into his hand.
“M—may I have m—my gloves?” he whimpered.