The Missing Prince

I’ve really half a mind
To have my hair, I do declare,

Done in a Q behind.’

“‘Bedad t’would suit you fine,’ said Pat;

‘I’ll have mine done as well.
You R a brick to think of that!

Oh! sha’n’t I look a swell!’

“Their shopping took the whole day through

There was so much to see;.
Then Paddy said ‘Allow me to

Scort you home to T.

‘“And U and I by hook or crook

On good things shall be fed.’
And, like Sam Weller in the book,

‘V vill,’ the Cockney said.

“They had their tea, then Paddy spoke:

‘I feel in merry case.
Shall I tell you a funny joke,

And pull a funny face

“‘To V with laughter up
And stand upon my head?’
‘Xactly so,’ the Cockney cried,

‘Y, certainly,’ he Z.”

Quite a crowd of fishes had gathered round the two Soles while they were singing this song, and after it was all over one of them went round with his hat and collected pennies just as the real niggers do. Boy noticed while this was going on that the boat was gradually rising to the surface of the sea, and presently he found that the deck was above the water and that he was breathing air again. He could see that they were approaching a Quay with a number of very quaint, old-fashioned buildings beyond it. A great crowd of people were gathered close to the edge of the Quay, and were pointing excitedly at something in the water, and as the boat drew nearer to the shore Boy could hear a number of directions being shouted at once.

“Throw him a rope.”

“Nonsense! He is insensible, and wouldn’t see it.”

“Well, you swim out to him then.”

“Sha’n’t! Do it yourself.”

“Throw stones at him and try and float him ashore that way.”

This last direction seemed to find most favour, and everybody began throwing stones at the object, whatever it was, in the water.

The boat had now come quite close to the Quay, and Boy could see that it was poor One-and-Nine who was attracting all this attention. He was floating on the top of the water with his eyes shut and half the paint washed off one side of his head He looked the picture of misery, but Boy was very glad to find that he was still alive, for he opened his eyes and feebly cried, “Don’t throw with such hardness,” whenever a stone accidentally hit him, which was very frequently, for you see there were such a number of people throwing them Boy felt very sorry for his old companion, and as soon as the boat reached the Quay he ran ashore and hurried to the place where they were trying to land the poor Wooden Soldier.

They had just succeeded in dragging him ashore with a boat-hook when Boy reached the crowd, and a fussy little gentleman was telling the people to “stand back and give him air.”

“Who is that gentleman?” asked Boy of one of the crowd standing near him.

“Why, the M.D., of course,” was the reply.

Boy being still in doubt ventured to ask what these letters stood for, and was informed that they stood for Mad Doctor. “All doctors are mad, you know,” said his informant; “that’s why they are obliged to put those letters after their names.”

Boy had never heard of this before, though he had often wondered what the letters meant. He tried to get nearer to One-and-Nine, and just caught a glimpse of the M.D. bending over him, and heard the Wooden Soldier explaining something about “The wetness of the water.”

“Yes, yes, my poor fellow,” the M.D. was saying. “Don’t try to talk. Has he any friends here?” he asked, looking round.

“Yes,” cried Boy, “I know him,” and the crowd immediately parted and made way for him to get nearer.

“Ah!” said the M.D., looking at Boy over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. “There’s, nothing much the matter with him except a slight attack of ‘Water on the grain;’” and the M.D. passed his hand over the Wooden Soldier’s head where the paint was washed off. “A little Enamel will soon set that right; go and fetch some,” he continued, turning to a small boy in buttons standing near him. The boy hurried off and soon returned, bearing a large tin of green Enamel and a brush. Boy looked at him in amazement when he came back, for he seemed to have grown several inches taller in the few minutes that he had been away. No one else, though, seemed to have noticed it, and the M.D. took the brush and began to paint the side of One-and-Nine’s head green.

The Wooden Soldier sighed once or twice, and then sat up and looked around him.

“Well, my man, how do you feel now?” said the M.D. kindly.

“Oh, a little much more better, thank you,” said One-and-Nine faintly. “That’s not a colour of much fashionableness, though, is it?” he asked, looking at the green Enamel dubiously.

“It’s a most uncommon colour for the hair,” said the M.D., daubing another patch at the back of his head, “and will go beautifully with your red tunic. There, that will do nicely; take the paint away, Bill,” he said to the page-boy.

“Very well, sir,” answered a voice a long way up in the air, and turning round, Boy could see that Bill, as he was called, had grown about twice as tall as he was before. His master did not seem at all surprised, however, and sent him off with the paint.

“And take that medicine to the Lord High Fiddle-de-dee’s as soon as you get back,” he called out as the boy hurried off, “and say he’s to be well shaken before they give it to him.”

The crowd was beginning to disperse, and One-and-Nine seemed to be all right again, although Boy thought that he looked rather peculiar with part of his head painted green.

“Which way are you going?” asked the M.D., smiling kindly at Boy.

“Oh! back to the boat again, I think,” answered Boy; but when he turned to the Quay he found that the boat had disappeared.

“Why, it’s gone!” he cried.

“Oh yes,” said the M.D., “it only stays here for a few moments; you had better come with me,” he suggested kindly.

Boy thought that they might as well do that as anything else, so One-and-Nine and he followed the M.D. through the quaint street with the curious old houses.

“There’s my Bronchitis,” cried the M.D. suddenly, pointing to a large house on the right, “and there’s my Sciatica opposite; I have a Whooping Cough in the next street, and the Measles a little further on,” he added proudly.

Boy looked around in alarm, wondering whatever the M.D. meant.

“Oh, here comes my Lumbago,” he cried, as an old gentleman walking with crutches came hobbling along the street, and then Boy could see that he had been referring to his patients.