Throwing away the spade, he broke into a frantic jig, snapping his fingers, and repeating, again and again
“There won’t be much for us!
There won’t be much for us!”
‘IT WAS A HIPPOPOTAMUS’
Once more the Baron looked slightly offended, but the Vice-Warden hastily explained that the song had no allusion to him, and in fact had no meaning at all. “You didn’t mean anything by it, now did you?” He appealed to the Gardener, who had finished his song, and stood, balancing himself on one leg, and looking at them, with his mouth open.
“I never means nothing,” said the Gardener: and Uggug luckily came up at the moment, and gave the conversation a new turn.
“Allow me to present my son,” said the Vice-Warden; adding, in a whisper, “one of the best and cleverest boys that ever lived! I’ll contrive for you to see some of his cleverness. He knows everything that other boys don’t know; and in archery, in fishing, in painting, and in music, his skill is—but you shall judge for yourself. You see that target over there? He shall shoot an arrow at it. Dear boy,” he went on aloud, “his Adiposity would like to see you shoot. Bring his Highness’ bow and arrows!”
Uggug looked very sulky as he received the bow and arrow, and prepared to shoot. Just as the arrow left the bow, the Vice-Warden trod heavily on the toe of the Baron, who yelled with the pain.
“Ten thousand pardons!” he exclaimed. “I stepped back in my excitement. See! It is a bull’s-eye!”