Delphi complete works of.., p.306
Delphi Complete Works of Thorne Smith (Illustrated), page 306
We sat on him —
Too bad it wasn’t day.
“Dear Mr. Budge,
Have you some fudge
Within this magic basket?
We love to eat
When things are sweet
Forgive us if we ask-et.
“With Mr. Budge
Through slush and sludge
We’ll take adventure’s way.
We’ll eat and sing
And rip and fling
And with the sun make hay.”
So pleased was Mr. Budge by this little song Peter had made up in his honor that he took the basket from the children and, reaching inside, drew out two bags of warm chocolate fudge with nuts in it. These he gave to Peter and Mary, having first taken a piece of fudge for himself from each bag.
“You know,” he said, quite frankly, “I like that song because my name comes into every verse. That’s businesslike. There can be no mistaking for whom it was meant. I like that.”
Peter, with his mouth full of fudge, nodded his appreciation of this praise.
“But,” continued Mr. Budge, “is it true about ‘mudge’? Does it really mean the same as my name, ‘Budge’?”
Peter swallowed hard and nodded once more.
“Mudge means to move; shift; budge,” he announced in a grand manner. “The word comes from Scotland. It is a good word.”
“You’re a clever fellow,” said Mr. Budge.
“I am,” replied Peter.
Mary cast him a withering look.
“Words, words, words,” she said. “Nothing but words — all empty.”
“Not at all,” reproved Mr. Budge. “I’ve learned something new today. Now I can have printed on my visiting cards:
Mr. Budge or Mudge
Take Your Choice
They Mean the Same.
“That makes two of me instead of one. It’s very important. If I forget one name I’ll be able to use the other. Then I’ll never get lost. I’m very much pleased — delighted. May I borrow a piece of fudge?”
Mary silently extended her bag, thinking to herself as she did so that men were easily pleased. All one needed to do was to say something flattering about them, and they were as happy as larks. She almost felt sorry for Mr. Budge.
They went swiftly along past lakes and castles and through deep, quiet forests in which there were cool springs from which they quenched their thirst. Fudge makes one very thirsty, even magic fudge. And it’s jolly to be thirsty when there’s something cool to drink.
Suddenly at a turn in the path they came upon an unexpected sight. Standing in a field was a small circus tent that looked as if it had been left behind by the main part of the circus.
“We shall have to investigate this,” said Mr. Budge importantly.
“It looks interesting,” observed Peter.
“It is interesting,” said Mary who hated a halfway sentence.
They approached the tent and looked inside and were amazed at what they saw. A real live circus clown with his face painted in the funniest way was sitting on a box. He was holding his head in his hands and looked very sad and dejected. The next moment they saw two lions. A beautiful circus girl in a short fluffy skirt was trying to make them jump through a hoop.
“It’s much too high,” complained one of the lions.
“You must remember we haven’t eaten for days and days,” said the other.
“But we must do something to keep our spirits up,” said the pretty circus girl.
“Then let’s do something else,” suggested the first lion.
“Using up my last ounce of energy to jump through that much-too-high hoop certainly does not keep my spirits up,” observed the second lion.
“Yes,” said the first lion. “Why doesn’t the clown do something to make us laugh?”
“He’s much too sad,” the girl replied. “He never made anyone laugh in his life. That’s why he’s so sad.”
“Well,” said the first lion, “if you hold that hoop about one inch from the ground I’ll try to drag my hollow shell through it just to please you.”
“I’ll do my bit,” said the other lion gloomily.
The girl held the hoop so close to the ground that its rim nearly touched it, and one after the other the lions wearily struggled through. After this, both of them lay down and panted heavily.
“Now I hope your spirits are up for the day,” said the first lion.
“Please take that hoop away and break it into one million small, unmendable parts,” pleaded the second lion.
This was too much for the three watchers. All of them began to laugh. At the sound of this sudden laughter the lions jumped up and tried to hide behind the girl. One of the lions was trembling from head to foot. Its tail shook so fast you could not see it. The clown looked up with a surprised expression on his face, while the circus girl stood her ground bravely as if she were protecting the lions and the clown.
Mr. Budge soon made her understand that he and the two children were friends and not enemies. The girl smiled and shook hands, then she introduced them to the others.
“This is Albert,” she said, pointing to one of the lions. “Stop shaking, Albert, and say something.”
A deep groan was all Albert was able to manage.
“He’s very nervous,” explained the girl. “That’s why the circus left him behind. He can’t stand company. It upsets him. Rudolph, his twin brother, stayed with him so that he wouldn’t feel so lonely. Come here, Rudy, and say something to our guests.”
Rudolph threw back his head and tried to strike such a noble attitude that he lost his balance and fell heavily on his nose. All he was able to say was, “Gr-r-r-r.” It did not sound at all fierce, but Rudolph hoped it did.
“And this is Mr. Bingle,” continued the girl, leading them up to the clown. “He was never able to make anyone laugh, so the circus left him behind. I stayed with Mr. Bingle because I love him in a sort of way, and someone had to take care of him. My name is Floret. I used to ride bareback on the horses, and everyone used to clap their hands and cheer. But there,” she added quite simply, “there was Bingle. The circus left us all behind. Where’s your tongue, Bingle?”
Mr. Bingle heaved a deep sigh and extended a limp hand.
“Very happy to meet you,” he said, brokenly, looking anything but happy.
“His spirits are very low,” said Floret, seriously. “It must have been terrible trying to be funny when you didn’t feel like it.”
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had only made one person laugh,” said Mr. Bingle. “Just one person, but I never succeeded.”
“And now that he can be as sad as he wants to,” said Floret, “I think he’s happy in his own strange way.”
“I am,” replied Mr. Bingle. “I’d much rather be sad than not funny. Yes, I am almost happy even though I may not look it.”
By this time Albert and Rudolph had joined the party. They were sitting looking down fixedly at the basket.
“It might have,” said Rudolph to his brother.
“If it hasn’t now it had,” replied Albert. “I’m sure of that.”
“I wonder if there is?” said Rudolph.
“Perhaps we’ll never find out,” sighed Albert.
Rudy glanced up to discover that Mr. Budge had been listening to what they had been saying.
“Just a private conversation about the weather,” the lion murmured, and looked demurely away. In a short time his eyes returned to the basket. His nose began to quiver.
“I know there is,” he whispered to Albert. “I’m absolutely certain. I damaged my nose severely when I unfortunately fell on it just now, but I can still smell food when it is as close to me as that.”
Mr. Budge looked about him with a smile so bright that it almost tinkled like a bell.
“Has anybody had luncheon?” he asked, as if it really didn’t matter. “I haven’t, for one.”
“I haven’t for another,” said Rudy promptly.
“Here’s a third,” chimed in Albert.
“No,” said Floret, in a voice that trembled a little. “We hadn’t got around to luncheon yet.”
“Be honest,” put in Mr. Bingle. “I hate false pride. We haven’t eaten for ever so long save little snatches here and there that Rudy was able to frighten from passers-by. He’s so gentle, though, he wouldn’t hurt a kitten.”
“ ‘Pon my word,” said Rudy, “I can’t bear violence. The very thought of it disturbs me.”
“I can well understand that,” replied Mr. Budge, approvingly. “Well, now we must make up for past days of hunger until they are entirely forgotten.”
He placed the basket on a long table and asked everyone to sit round. He did not have to ask twice. Everyone sat round. Then Mr. Budge took from the basket grapefruit, which the lions eyed with disapproval. Next he produced steak, chicken pie, mutton chops, and baked ham. After this came rice, sweet potatoes, and all sorts of vegetables. The twin lions had to rest their chins on the edge of the table to keep their tongues from falling out. Mr. Bingle covered his eyes with his hand. Floret sat at the end of the table like a beautiful little fairy queen. Peter and Mary waited eloquently. Mr. Budge was at his best. He chuckled and buzzed and buzzed and chuckled and nearly exploded when he tried to do both together.
There were milk, tea and coffee, lemonade, ice cream, cup custard, cakes and candy. That was about all. There might have been several other things, but Mr. Budge made sure there was enough.
Oh yes, there were grapes.
Big, glowing bunches of them.
CHAPTER 6. Winter City At Christmas
IT WAS A remarkable sight to see — a real Clown and a beautiful Circus Rider, two Lions, two children and the beaming Mr. Budge, all eating as fast and as furiously as their arms and jaws would allow them. Floret ate like a little lady, but the rest, I’m afraid to say, were unrestrained to the point of violence. Mr. Budge not only loved to see others eat, but also he loved to do exactly the same thing himself. He set the example so that everyone should feel at home. A desperate eater was Mr. Budge. None better. None more hospitable. A born host.
When Mr. Budge was able to make his voice heard above the gnashing of teeth and the snapping of jaws, he made a suggestion.
“Floret,” he said in a kindly voice, “since the circus has left all of you behind, why not come with us?”
“Hear! Hear!” cried Rudolph.
“Why not?” cried Albert, too full of food to be timid any longer.
Mr. Budge bowed politely.
“You see, my dear,” he continued, “we are going nowhere in particular and everywhere in general and—”
“Does that basket go with you?” interrupted Mr. Bingle rather rudely.
“Always,” smiled Mr. Budge.
“Then, I say, don’t ever let him out of our sight. Let’s go, Floret.”
“Are you going with Mr. Budge or his basket?” asked Floret.
“With Mr. Budge and the children, of course,” Bingle and the lions answered in one voice, but not convincingly.
“Then,” said Floret, “I think I should be delighted to join the party. I’m ready to start at any time. I’m tired of this old tent.”
“Troupers again!” cried Mr. Bingle.
“But it will be ever so much more fun than trouping with that circus,” said Albert.
“Well, it couldn’t be worse,” admitted Mr. Bingle, quite frankly.
“Then it’s all settled,” announced Mr. Budge. “Let’s start.”
And off started the strange party along the winding road. Rudy and Albert kept well in the rear, from which position they would be able to hide themselves in the bushes in case of danger. In the highly strung minds of Rudolph and Albert there was always a chance for something dangerous to happen. As they walked sedately behind the others along the strange road they were already beginning to regret they had been so eager to start out on this adventure. Albert looked timidly from side to side, as if fearing each bush concealed an enemy.
“Do you think it was quite wise of us to have trusted ourselves to this unknown person?” he asked his brother.
“Perhaps not wise,” replied Rudy, “but otherwise we would have starved.”
“Wise and otherwise,” murmured Albert. “I see it. You’re so clever. I never could have thought out that pun. You have all the brains of the family, Rudy.”
“Never mind, Albert,” said the other. “You have the personality — the disposition that attracts.”
“Do you think I please people?” asked Albert, feeling grateful to his brother.
“Yes,” replied Rudolph. “You have what they call charm. Now take me, for example. I’m a sort of rough-and-tumble chap, a fighting, scuffling, knock-down-and-drag-’em-out fellow. People fear me, but they don’t love me as they do you.”
At this moment a branch snapped with a loud noise in the woods, and Rudolph, the brave, once more fell on his nose from fright. Albert gave one gasp and, sinking to the road, covered his eyes with his paws.
“What’s happened to the Twins?” asked Mary, looking back at the terrified lions lying in the road.
Everyone hurried back to Rudolph and Albert and asked them what had happened.
“Ten men with guns came out of the woods and tried to shoot us,” declared Albert.
“Twenty men, brother,” corrected Rudolph. “I counted the gleaming barrels. I just gave them one look — you know, like this” — Rudy lifted his head and tried to look fierce, but only succeeded in looking foolish— “and they ran away.”
“What, the barrels?” demanded Peter.
“Certainly not,” replied Rudy with great dignity. “Barrels can’t run. You know that as well as I do.”
“But barrels can roll,” said Peter. “Did these barrels roll away?”
Rudy tossed his head and refused to answer.
“What a remarkable story!” observed Mr. Budge.
“The Twins are full of remarkable stories,” said Floret, with a smile. She patted the two lions. “Come along,” she told them. “Both of you did splendidly. Peter was only fooling.”
The Twins got up and followed the party.
“I’m dying on my feet already,” said Rudy, in a low voice.
“So am I,” complained Albert. “When we traveled with the circus we always had a wagon to go in.”
“Our present method of locomotion, I think, is vulgarly known as Shanks’ Mare,” remarked Albert. “Frankly, I don’t care for it. I’m exhausted, absolutely done in.”
“It’s snowing,” announced Mr. Bingle with a sigh. “That makes everything better and brighter. I’d love to perish in the snow.”
“But how can it snow in the middle of Summer?” asked Floret.
“The way it is,” answered Mr. Bingle sadly.
“Now that’s a most unusual thing,” said Mr. Budge. “I can’t account for it unless we’re on the road that leads to the Winter City.”
“What is the Winter City, Mr. Budge?” asked Peter, greatly excited at the prospect of a snowstorm.
“It is a city that has but one season. No Summer, no Spring, no Autumn, only Winter — Winter all the year round.”
“What a peculiar city,” said Mary, “I never heard of such a place. Do you think we are going there?”
“It seems so, dear,” replied Mr. Budge, looking troubled. “And we haven’t any Winter underwear or anything.”
At this moment the Twins came padding up in an overwrought condition. “It’s snowing,” they complained, “all over us.”
“And not only you, my lads,” said Mr. Bingle. “It’s snowing all over everybody.”
As a matter of fact it was. The snow was falling faster and faster. In a short time the road was covered with snow. The way twisted ahead of them like a white ribbon. Soon the branches of the trees had gathered in armfuls of soft white flakes. Poor Floret, in her thin short dress, shivered but said nothing. No complaining from her.
“We must hurry to reach the city before the road becomes choked with snow,” said Mr. Budge. “I must find shelter for you all somewhere. The trouble is I haven’t much money.”
“We have no money,” shouted the Twins. “We never have any money.”
“There, there,” said Floret soothingly. “We’ll take care of you.”
“To perish in the snow,” murmured Mr. Bingle. “How beautiful!”
“How horrible!” retorted Albert.
“Bingle, I wish you’d keep those remarks to yourself,” said Rudy. “They don’t help matters at all.”
Peter began to sing. This was his song:
SIMPLE SNOW SONG
In sort of Verses
Another by Peter
I
“The flakes fall
On all.
II
“They’re not large
Nor yet small.
III
“The snow falls.
For snowballs.
IV
“The flakes call:
‘Let’s blot all.’
V
“A white pall
At nightfall.
VI
“That’s all.
That’s all.”
“It’s too much,” commented Rudolph.
“There’s a lovely hopelessness about it,” said Mr. Bingle. “I like the ending, ‘That’s all. That’s all,’ and then there was that bit about the ‘White pall at nightfall.’ Charming, Peter. You’re a poet.”
This praise was quite enough to keep Peter warm until they reached the streets of the Winter City. At first they walked through the Rich Part where all the houses were well lighted and everyone was snug and dry and warm. And as they passed along the streets they saw that the store windows were filled with Christmas trees and wonderful presents. There were all sorts of toys and beautiful decorations. The rich homes had holly wreaths hung in their windows, and occasionally the cold, snow-covered little party could see beautifully lighted Christmas trees inside. Men and women hurried by them with their arms laden with interesting-looking books and packages. No one seemed to notice them. Even the Twins failed to attract any attention.
“Is it Christmas Eve?” Mr. Budge politely asked a man who was waiting at a street crossing.
The man looked at Mr. Budge for a moment, then laughed unpleasantly.
