The Wallypug in London Part 9

"It's the most contraryish place I've ever seen," declared One-and-Nine.

"Yes," agreed the Wallypug. "There was no water in the moat."

"The Drawbridge didn't draw," echoed the Rhymester.

"Ad the beefeaters didn't eat beef," chimed in A. Fish, Esq., while the Doctor-in-Law declared that for his part he "considered the morning spent there had been entirely wasted."

They were talking about the Tower of London, and were telling Girlie and Boy, who were spending the afternoon with us, all about their visit there on the previous day.

I was sitting in an adjoining room--but the door being open I could hear all that was said.

"How did you go?" asked Boy.

"Oh!" exclaimed the Wallypug, "in the most extraordinary way you can possibly imagine. We went into a house in High Street, Kensington, and bought some little tickets, and then we handed them to a man at a barrier, who cut a little piece out of each one as we pa.s.sed through."

"To rebebber us by," chimed in A. Fish, Esq.

"Yes," continued the Wallypug; "and then we went down two flights of stairs, and by-and-bye a lot of little houses on wheels came rushing into the station, and we got into one of them and before you could say 'Jack Robinson' we were rushing through a big black tunnel under the ground."

"Why, you mean the Underground Railway," declared Girlie.

"Yes," agreed his Majesty. "And the little room we sat in had beautiful soft cushions and a big light in the middle of the roof, and little texts printed on the wall--"

"Texts!" exclaimed both of the children.

"Texts," repeated the Wallypug. "What were they? Do you remember?" he asked of the others.

"Oh, one was, 'You are requested not to put your feet on the cushions,'" said the Rhymester.

"Oh, yes, and 'To seat five,' and 'Wait till the train stops'--I remember now," continued the Wallypug. "Well, we kept rushing through the tunnel till we came to 'Holman's Mustard,' and a lot of people got out, and then we went on again till we came to 'Smears' Soap.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HOLMAN'S MUSTARD AGAIN"]

"It wasn't 'Smears' Soap,'" contradicted the Doctor-in-Law. "It was somebody's Ink."

"Well, there were such a lot of names," declared the Wallypug, "it was impossible to really tell which was which. I always took the name opposite to my window to be the right one. The funniest part of it all was, we kept coming to 'Holman's Mustard' over and over again. I can't think how on earth the people know when to get out."

"Why, those weren't the names of the stations at all," laughed Boy.

"They were advertis.e.m.e.nts!"

"Well, where were the names of the stations then?" demanded his Majesty.

"Why, in big letters on the walls of course," was the reply.

"They couldn't have been much bigger than those of 'Holman's Mustard,'" persisted the Wallypug somewhat ungrammatically.

"Never mind about that; get on with your story," remarked the Doctor-in-Law impatiently.

"Well, after going through a lot of tunnels and stopping ever so many times, we got out at one of the stations and went upstairs into the light again, and almost opposite the station we could see a lot of grey stone buildings with towers and battlements."

"I know! You mean the Tower. We've been there," interrupted Girlie.

"Did you see the Lions?" asked the Wallypug eagerly.

"Lions! No!" exclaimed the children. "There weren't any; you didn't see any, did you?"

"No, we didn't," admitted the Wallypug, "but the Doctor-in-Law told us that there were some there."

"I read it in a book," declared the Doctor-in-Law. "But I daresay it was all a pack of stories, like the rest of the things they said. Look at the Crown Jewels for instance--bits of gla.s.s and rubbish. That's why they put them in an iron cage, so you can't get at them to see if they are real."

"Oh! I think they _are_ real," said Boy. "The Guide told us that they were worth ever so many thousands of pounds."

"Yes, he may have _said_ so," remarked the Doctor-in-Law, "but I'll be bound he wouldn't let you take them away and examine them for yourself. I asked them to let me have one or two of the crowns and things to take home and test, but they positively refused, although I promised to return them within a week. They are afraid that we should find out that they are only imitations--that's what's the matter."

"There weren't any kings or queens executed either the day we were there," he continued, grumbling.

"Well, I'm sure I'm very glad that _that_ fashion has died out,"

declared his Majesty. "I don't mind admitting now that I was rather nervous about going at all, for fear that I should have _my_ head chopped off, and I should feel so very awkward without one, you know."

"Pooh! You needn't have been alarmed, for there wasn't a Lord High Executioner on the premises, because I asked," declared the Rhymester.

"No, but do you know," said his Majesty, "I've found out since, that he lives at the bottom of our street, and mends shoes for a living--he does a little executing still on the sly, for I have seen his bill in the window, 'Orders _executed_ with promptness and dispatch.' I asked him one day what cla.s.s he executed most, and he said that his connection was princ.i.p.ally amongst the 'Uppers.' He seems a very kind man though, and not only executes orders, but heals them too, poor souls! He charges 1s. 3d. for healing. His education has been sorely neglected, I am afraid, however, for he spells it 'heeling.'"

"Did you see the Armoury at the Tower?" asked Boy.

"Yes, and there was another instance of deception," declared the Doctor-in-Law.

"What do you mean?" asked Boy.

"Well, what is an armoury?" inquired the Doctor-in-Law.

"A place where arms are kept, I suppose," replied Boy.

"Just so, and there wasn't an arm in the place except our own," said the Doctor-in-Law wrathfully.

"Why, they call guns and things arms," said Boy, laughing.

"Oh! do they?" remarked the Doctor-in-Law sarcastically. "Why don't they call things by their proper names then? they might as well call them legs, or turnips, or paraffin oil--bah! I've no patience with such folly!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THEY WENT FOR BY CALVES"]

"I think they bight feed the raveds[1] bedder," complained A. Fish, Esq. "They went for by calves, and if wud of those Beefeaters hadn'd cub and driven theb away I shouldn't have had a leg left to stand up od."

[1] He meant the tame ravens which are kept at the Tower.

"Beefeaters, yes!" remarked the Rhymester, "and a pretty lot they were. I tried several of them with a piece that I had brought with me in a little paper bag, and not one of them would touch it."

"Madame Tussaud's was better; we went there in the afternoon," said his Majesty.