Dick, Marjorie and Fidge | Page 7

as little as this,
and so we are not in such great danger of
being--er--er--thingummybobbed--you know--what the Ambassador
said we should be, if we didn't find the wretched thing."
"Supposing we try and find the Ambassador," suggested Marjorie. "I
don't think he was really very cross, only a little abrupt, you know; and
we could explain everything to him, and perhaps he would give us a
new paper."
"All right," said Dick, leading the way. "At any rate, he will be able to
make us grow bigger--that is, if we wish to," he added, with a fine
affectation of unconcern.
The children walked on for some time in the direction in which the
Ambassador and his followers had disappeared, and they soon found
themselves out of the cave and in a kind of forest.
[Illustration: "A curious little old man with a flowing beard came
toward them."]

"What funny trees," said Fidge, looking up over his head.
The others followed his example, and found that he had good cause for
his surprise; the long, smooth trunks, without any leaves, ended in a
kind of ball, while at the roots a kind of enormous bulb appeared.
"Whatever can they be?" cried Marjorie, in amazement.
"Onions!" was the reply, spoken by a strange voice.
The children turned around, and beheld a curious little old man with a
long flowing beard coming toward them.
"Have you any other questions to ask?" he inquired, pleasantly.
"It's very kind of you, Sir," said Dick, who was the first to recover from
the surprise which they had all experienced at this sudden apparition.
"Will you, please, tell us where we are?"
"Oh," said the little man, with a smile, "this is the Field of Onions. And
I am the Sage with the snowy beard who dwells in the Field of Onions.
And that is the Hut of curious build which belongs to the Sage with the
snowy beard who dwells in the Field of Onions.
"Is there anything else I can tell you? If so, pray ask me. I like it."
"What a funny man," whispered Marjorie. "Do you think he is quite
right in his head?"
"Hush!" said Dick. "Perhaps he can direct us to the Little Panjandrum's,
and then we can find the Ambassador easily."
"Little Panjandrum's, certainly," said the Sage, answering exactly as
though he had been spoken to himself--
"'Take the first to the right on Tuesday week, The second to the left on
Monday; On Friday you'll not have far to seek, And be sure not to
travel on Sunday!'

"But it's no use going at all till you've found the Dodo," he added.
"Good gracious! how did you know that we were looking for it," cried
Dick.
"Oh, I know everything," said the Sage, complacently. "Did you ever
know a Sage who didn't?"
"I'm afraid I've never known one at all before, Sir," said Dick; "but I
should think it must be very useful to know such a lot, isn't it?"
"Yes, it isn't bad," admitted the Sage; "would you like to know how I
became so clever?"
"Oh, yes, please," cried all the children at once.
Motioning them to a seat on an onion bulb, the little man struck an
attitude, and began--
"I was brought up on Verbs of irregular kind, With a Pronoun or two as
a treat, While a strict course of Logic, to strengthen my mind, My
pastors and masters thought meet.
I had Lessons for breakfast, and Sums for my tea, Learnt to play the
Arithmetic nicely, And gained all the prizes at School--don't you see,
For construing Doggerel concisely.
They were Isms, and Ologies, Science, and Cram, Quadratic Equations,
and Butter, The Pons asinorum, and Strawberry Jam, And the Cane,
did I mumble or mutter."
CHAPTER IV.
STORIES AND TAILS BY THE SAGE.
"Do you mean to say," inquired Dick, when the Sage had finished, "that
all those last things were prizes; because, if so, there isn't a single one
of them that I should have cared for much, except the Strawberry Jam?"

"That only shows a great want of taste on your part," said the old Sage,
severely. "Isms and Ologies, and things of that sort, are very tasty,
when you become used to them."
"What are Isms and Ologies, if you please, Sir?" asked Marjorie.
"Oh, there are various kinds," was the reply. "There's Ge-Ology, for
instance, which is lovely spread on bread-and-butter; and Zo-Ology,
with Aphor-Ism sauce, is simply delicious."
"They don't sound very nice," said Marjorie, dubiously, making a wry
face.
"You don't know anything at all about it, I'm afraid, my dear," said the
little old man, decidedly. "You would probably prefer dolls and
foolishness of that sort!"
"Yes, I think I should," admitted Marjorie, candidly.
"Do you know everything, please,