The Dodo's Monument.
The Little Panjandrum beamed approval, and calling together his suite, the Black Attendant once more raised the State Umbrella over His Importance’s head, and the tom-tom and Jew’s harp began their strange music, while the Ambassador took a hurried leave of the children, and the cortège passed out of sight. Fainter and fainter grew the sound of the instruments, and the children, somewhat alarmed at being left all alone, were half undecided whether to follow or not, when their attention was called to a smothered giggling at the back of them.
Turning around, they beheld the Dodo holding his hands to his sides, and shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Ho! ho! ho!” he laughed, dancing about on the pedestal, “haven’t I tricked them beautifully? Turned to stone! The Dodo, now fortunately extinct! Ha! ha! ha! he! he! what a lark! They’ll find I’m not so extinct as they think.” And, jumping down, he made a grimace in the direction in which the Little Panjandrum and suite had vanished.
“I think I’ve got the best of them this time,” he continued, triumphantly.
“But come, let’s get out of this as soon as possible. You want to get to London, don’t you? Let’s start at once, if not sooner.”
“But, I say, what are we going to do for money?” said Dick. “One can’t get to London without that, you know.”
“Oh, we’ll find a way somehow,” said the Dodo, hopefully. “Come along.”