The Missing Prince. Farrow George Edward

Shore, Scarborough.”

      “How splendid!” said Boy. “Can you please tell me, sir, what R.S.V.P. means? I’ve seen it on invitation cards before?”

      “I am not quite certain,” replied Pierrot; “but in this case I think it must mean Ridiculous Society and Violent Papa. You see, being a toy wedding, they are obliged by toy etiquette to ask all the articles on the same shelf as the bride and bridegroom, and so the company is bound to be rather mixed, and the bride’s father is afflicted with the most violent temper you have ever heard of.”

      “Dear me!” said Boy, “perhaps I had better not go.”

      “Oh, it will be all right,” said Pierrot. “Whenever he feels his temper getting the better of him he very wisely shuts himself up in a room by himself till it’s all over, so you need not be in the least afraid. But, I say, we had better be starting, you know; it’s getting rather late.”

      Boy hurriedly dressed himself, and taking Pierrot’s hand he stepped from the window-sill into the Moon, which was conveniently close to the window. It was very much like a boat, Boy thought, as he sat down and made himself comfortable on one of the little cushioned seats which stretched from one side of the Moon to the other. They had only floated a very little way down the street, however, when the Moon began to descend and then stopped, just at the top of the long flight of steps near the Spa, which led to the seashore. Pierrot jumped out, and, after helping Boy to alight, told him that at the bottom of the steps he would find somebody waiting to conduct him to Sand Castle.

      “Aren’t you coming too?” asked Boy in surprise.

      “No,” replied Pierrot, “we must be off, the Moon and I, or people will wonder what has become of us. Goodbye!” and getting into the Moon again he was soon floating rapidly away.

      Boy was somewhat alarmed at his sudden disappearance, and felt half inclined to run back to the Hotel. “Perhaps I had better go down to the bottom of the steps, though,” he thought, “and see who is there;” and he had got half way down when he suddenly stopped in dismay. Why, he was growing shorter! There could be no doubt about it. He could see to his great surprise that he was only about half as tall as he had been when he started running down the steps.

      Whatever should he do? Boy now felt really alarmed. Why, if he went on at that rate there would soon be nothing at all left of him.

      “What’s the matter, sonny?” said a tiny voice near him.

      Boy looked around, but could see no one.

      “What’s the matter, I say?” said the voice again.

      “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Boy, who thought that it was only polite to speak when spoken to, even although he could not see the speaker. “I am growing smaller and smaller, and I don’t know whatever to do.”

      “Well, my little man,” said the voice, “you are going to the toy party, aren’t you? How do you expect to get into Sand Castle the ridiculous size that you are at present? You will keep on getting smaller and smaller each step you take till you reach the bottom, when you will be the respectable height of six inches or so.”

      “Six inches!” exclaimed Boy. “Oh dear! oh dear! What a tiny mite I shall be, to be sure, and I did so want to be big like Uncle!”

      “Do you call six inches small?” said the voice. “Why, I am twenty times as small as that.”

      “Are you really? No wonder I can’t see you, then,” remarked Boy. “I should think it isn’t very nice to be so insignificant as that, is it?”

      A sudden pain in his arm made him shout “Oh!” and while he was wondering whatever could have caused it, he heard the voice repeating these words: —

      “You need not think because I’m small

      That I’ve no reputation,

      I do not hesitate to say

      I’m known throughout the nation.

      “By every lady in the land

      I’m held in high esteem,

      The strongest men require my aid,

      However weak I seem.

      “And even you must fain admit

      That I’m both sharp and bright,

      And probably will want my help

      Yourself before to-night.

      “So don’t attempt to ‘sit’ on me,

      ‘Twould not be wise of you.

      ‘My name?’ An ordinary Pin.

      D’ye see the point? Adieu.”

      “Good gracious!” exclaimed Boy; “just fancy a pin talking to one! I wonder whatever will happen next. Well, I certainly felt the point if I didn’t see it,” he continued, rubbing his arm and hurrying down the steps, for he didn’t so much mind now he really knew what to expect about his size.

      CHAPTER II. – THE PARTY AT SAND CASTLE

      GROWING shorter and shorter as he hurried along, Boy noticed that the Moon had gone back to its usual place in the sky, and that Pierrot was nowhere to be seen.

      “I suppose he is lying down asleep on the cushions,” he thought, as he let himself down from one step to another; for you see he had by this time become so small that the steps seemed like huge rocks to him.

      When he at last reached the bottom one, he was greatly disappointed to find that there was nobody in sight. From behind a piece of rock, however, half buried in the sand, came the sound of laughter. “Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee, hee! Ho, ho!” shouted somebody, and when Boy hurried up to where the sounds proceeded from a curious sight met his eyes.

      A Grig was pirouetting about on the tip of its tail, giggling and laughing in an insane fashion, whilst a solemn-looking Wooden Soldier was standing at “attention” and looking straight in front of him, not taking the slightest notice of the Grig or anything else.

      Presently the Grig caught sight of Boy. “Hee, hee, hee!” he snickered, “here comes a boy! What a jolly lark!” and he capered about more madly than before.

      The Wooden Soldier, who had a label round his neck with “One-and-Nine” written on it, turned stiffly around, so that he faced Boy, and said in a deep voice, —

      “I wote for you at the bottom of the step for some time, but was obligated to move to a more shelterous situation, as I am suffering from a stiff neck.”

      “You wote for me!” exclaimed Boy, “whatever do you mean?”

      “Wote, past participle of the verb to wait. Wait, wite, wote, you know,” answered the Soldier.

      “Hee, hee, hee! Isn’t he a cure?” laughed the Grig, winking at Boy, and twirling about at such a rate that it made Boy quite giddy to look at him.

      “He’s been crossed in love, and it’s touched his brain – ha, ha, ha! – he fancies that he has invented a new system of Grammar. What a lark! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho!” and he rolled about in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

      “Well, of all the extraordinary individuals that I have ever met,” thought Boy, “these two are certainly the most remarkable! I wonder which of them is to show me the way to Sand Castle. I had better ask.”

      “Mr. Officer,” he began, for he thought that would be a polite way of addressing the Soldier.

      “His name’s One-and-Nine,” interrupted the Grig “What a name! Ha, ha, ha! Hee, hee!”

      “The vulgarocity of this individual is unbearacious,” exclaimed One-and-Nine angrily. “Let us leave him.”

      “Oh! I wish to be directed to Sand Castle,” said Boy. “Can you please show me the way?”

      “That is the purposeness of my being here,” replied One-and-Nine. “Step this way, please,” he said, as