Part 21 (2/2)
Then Oswald went out of the room and secretly a.s.sumed his dark disguise.
But when he came in with the beard on, and a hat of Father's, the others were not struck with admiration and respect, like he meant them to be.
They rolled about, roaring with laughter, and when he crept into Miss Blake's room and turned up the gas a bit, and looked in her long gla.s.s, he owned that they were right and that it was no go. He is tall for his age, but that beard made him look like some horrible dwarf; and his hair being so short added to everything. Any idiot could have seen that the beard had not originally flourished where it now was, but had been transplanted from some other place of growth.
And when he laughed, which now became necessary, he really did look most awful. He has read of beards wagging, but he never saw it before.
While he was looking at himself the girls had thought of a new idea.
But Oswald had an inside presentiment that made it some time before he could even consent to listen to it. But at last, when the others reminded him that it was a n.o.ble act, and for the good of Albert's uncle, he let them explain the horrid scheme in all its lurid parts.
It was this: That Oswald should consent to be disguised in women's raiments and go with Alice to see the Editor.
No man ever wants to be a woman, and it was a bitter thing for Oswald's pride, but at last he consented. He is glad he is not a girl. You have no idea what it is like to wear petticoats, especially long ones. I wonder that ladies continue to endure their miserable existences. The top parts of the clothes, too, seemed to be too tight and too loose in the wrong places. Oswald's head, also, was terribly in the way. He had no wandering hairs to fasten transformations on to, even if Miss Blake had had another one, which was not the case. But the girls remembered a governess they had once witnessed whose hair was brief as any boy's, so they put a large hat, with a very tight elastic behind, on to Oswald's head, just as it was, and then with a tickly, p.u.s.s.yish, featherish thing round his neck, hanging wobblily down in long ends, he looked more young-lady-like than he will ever feel.
Some courage was needed for the start next day. Things look so different in the daylight.
”Remember Lord Nithsdale coming out of the Tower,” said Alice. ”Think of the great cause and be brave,” and she tied his neck up.
”I'm brave all right,” said Oswald, ”only I do feel such an a.s.s.”
”I feel rather an ape myself,” Alice owned, ”but I've got three-penn'orth of peppermints to inspire us with bravery. It is called Dutch courage, I believe.”
Owing to our telling Jane we managed to get out unseen by Blakie.
All the others would come, too, in their natural appearance, except that we made them wash their hands and faces. We happened to be flush of c.h.i.n.k, so we let them come.
”But if you do,” Oswald said, ”you must surround us in a hollow square of four.”
So they did. And we got down to the station all right. But in the train there were two ladies who stared, and porters and people like that came round the window far more than there could be any need for. Oswald's boots must have shown as he got in. He had forgotten to borrow a pair of Jane's, as he had meant to, and the ones he had on were his largest. His ears got hotter and hotter, and it got more and more difficult to manage his feet and hands. He failed to suck any courage, of any nation, from the peppermints.
[Ill.u.s.tration: OSWALD SAW THE DRIVER WINK AS HE PUT HIS BOOT ON THE STEP, AND THE PORTER WHO WAS OPENING THE CAB DOOR WINKED BACK.]
Owing to the state Oswald's ears were now in, we agreed to take a cab at Cannon Street. We all crammed in somehow, but Oswald saw the driver wink as he put his boot on the step, and the porter who was opening the cab door winked back, and I am sorry to say Oswald forgot that he was a high-born lady, and he told the porter that he had better jolly well stow his cheek. Then several bystanders began to try and be funny, and Oswald knew exactly what particular sort of fool he was being.
But he bravely silenced the fierce warnings of his ears, and when we got to the Editor's address we sent d.i.c.k up with a large card that we had written on,
”MISS DAISY DOLMAN and THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MISS ETHELTRUDA BUSTLER.
On urgent business.”
and Oswald kept himself and Alice concealed in the cab till the return of the messenger.
”All right; you're to go up,” d.i.c.ky came back and said; ”but the boy grinned who told me so. You'd better be jolly careful.”
We bolted like rabbits across the pavement and up the Editor's stairs.
He was very polite. He asked us to sit down, and Oswald did. But first he tumbled over the front of his dress because it would get under his boots, and he was afraid to hold it up, not having practised doing this.
”I think I have had letters from you?” said the Editor.
[Ill.u.s.tration: HE LOOKED AT OSWALD'S BOOTS.]
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