[V.]
A CALL ON THE KING
"Mercy!" cried Mollie as the Unwiseman stepped out of the carpet-bag, and began limbering up his stiffened legs by pirouetting about the room. "Aren't you nearly stufficated to death?"
"No indeed," said the Unwiseman. "Why should I be?"
"Well I should think the inside of a carpet-bag would be pretty smothery," observed Mollie.
"Perhaps it would be," agreed the Unwiseman, "if I hadn't taken mighty good care that it shouldn't be. You see I brought that life-preserver along, and every time I needed a bite of fresh air, I'd unscrew the tin cap and get it. I pumped it full of fine salt air the day we left Ireland for just that purpose."
"What a splendid idea!" ejaculated Mollie full of admiration for the Unwiseman's ingenuity.
"Yes I think it's pretty good," said the Unwiseman, "and when I get back home I'm going to invent it and make a large fortune out of it. Of course there ain't many people nowadays, especially among the rich, who travel in carpet-bags the way I do, or get themselves checked through from New York to Chicago in trunks, but there are a lot of 'em who are always complaining about the lack of fresh air in railroad trains especially when they're going through tunnels, so I'm going to patent a little pocket fresh air case that they can carry about with them and use when needed. It is to be made of rubber like a hot-water bag, and all you've got to do before starting off on a long journey is to take your bicycle pump, pump the fresh-air bag full of the best air you can find on the place and set off on your trip. Then when the cars get snuffy, just unscrew the cap and take a sniff."