Part 12 (2/2)
”Well I guess I'll have to give it up then,” said the Unwiseman, ”unless you know where I could hire a suit, or maybe buy one second-hand from some one of your customers who's going to get a new one.”
”We do not do that kind of trade, sir,” replied the Tailor, haughtily.
”Well say, Mr. Snip--ain't there anything else a chap can be made beside a Duke that ain't quite so dressy?” persisted the old gentleman. ”I don't want to disappoint Mr. King you know.”
”Oh as for that,” observed the Tailor, ”there are ordinary peerages, baronetcies and the like. His Majesty might make you a Knight,” he added sarcastically.
”That sounds good,” said the Unwiseman. ”About what would a Knight gown cost me--made out of paper muslin or something that's a wee bit cheaper than solid gold and velvet?”
This perfectly innocent and sincerely asked question was never answered, for Mr. Snip the Tailor made up his mind that the Unwiseman was guying him and acted accordingly.
”Jorrocks!” he cried haughtily to the office boy, a fresh looking lad who had broken out all over in bra.s.s b.u.t.tons. ”Jorrocks, show this 'ere party the door.”
Whereupon Mr. Snip retired and Jorrocks with a wink at Whistlebinkie showed the travellers out.
”Well did you ever!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Unwiseman. ”You couldn't have expected any haughtier haughtiness than that from the King himself.”
”He was pretty proud,” said Mollie, with a smile, for to tell the truth she had had all she could do all through the interview to keep from giggling.
”He was proud all right, but I didn't notice anything very pretty about him,” said the Unwiseman. ”I'm going to write to the King about both those places, because I don't believe he knows what kind of people they are with their bogus m.u.f.fins and hoity-toity manners.”
They walked solemnly along the street in the direction of the hotel.
”I won't even wait for the mail,” said the Unwiseman. ”I'll walk over to the Palace now and tell him. That tailor might turn some real important American out of his shop in the same way and then there'd be a war over it.”
”O I wouldn't,” said Mollie, who was always inclined toward peace-making. ”Wait and write him a letter.”
”Send-im-a-wireless-smessage,” whistled Whistlebinkie.
”Good idea!” said the Unwiseman. ”That'll save postage and it'll get to the King right away instead of having to be read first by one of his Secretaries.”
So it happened that that night the Unwiseman climbed up to the roof of the hotel and sent the following wireless telegram to the King:
MY DEAR MR. KING:
That tailor of yours seems to think he's a Grand Duke in disguise.
In the first place he wanted me to pay over seven thousand dollars for a Duke's suit and when I asked him the price of a Knight-gown he told Jorrocks to show me the door, which I had already seen and hadn't asked to see again. He's a very imputinent tailor and if I were you I'd bounce him as we say in America. Furthermore they sell bogus m.u.f.fins up at that specially appointed bake-shop of yours. I think you ought to know these things. Nations have gone to war for less.
Yours trooly, THE UNWISEMAN.
P.S. I've been thinking about that Duke proposition and I don't think I care to go into that business. Folks at home haven't as much use for 'em as they have for sour apples which you can make pie out of. So don't do anything further in the matter.
”There,” said the Unwiseman as he tossed this message off into the air.
”That saves me $8.50 anyhow, and I guess it'll settle the business of those bogus m.u.f.fin people and that high and mighty tailor.”
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