with the
others, and looked through the picture books which Perkins found for
them, while the gentleman sent home for the clothes, and telegraphed to
their father.
In the middle of the day some luncheon was brought in for them from a
neighboring restaurant, and soon afterwards the clothes arrived.
An Eton suit for Dick, the jacket of which was just a trifle short; a
pretty, simple dress for Marjorie; and a sailor suit for Fidge.
When the children had donned these, after having had a good wash, they
looked as different as possible; and when, a little later on, they were
led into another room with the mysterious statement, "That somebody
wanted to see them," they were all eagerness to know who it possibly
could be.
As soon as the door opened, however, there could be no doubt as to who
it was, for with a delighted cry of "Oh, Papa! Papa!" Marjorie rushed
into the arms of a gentleman standing in the middle of the room, and
seemed half undecided whether to cry or to laugh, while Fidge and Dick
crowded around and joined in the excitement.
[Illustration: The Dodo was moved to tears.]
The Dodo, who had come into the room at that moment, thought that he,
too, ought to have a share in the welcoming, and, in grotesque imitation
of Marjorie, he tried to jump up into the gentleman's arms, crying
excitedly, "Oh, Papa! Papa!" just as she had done.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed the children's father, drawing back in
dismay, and gazing at the clumsy bird. "What on earth is this?"
And then, when they tried to explain--all speaking at once--they made
such a confusion that he was glad to put his hands to his ears, and to
cry out that they must reserve the story till they reached home. And
after thanking the gentleman for all his kindness, the children and
their father said good-by, and went down to the carriage which was
waiting at the door to drive them away.
It had been decided, despite the children's pleading, that the Dodo had
better _not_ go home with them; and so, with many promises to write and
invite him soon, they took an affectionate farewell of their old friend;
and the last view they had of him, as he stood at the window, meekly
flourishing a limp glove, showed that he was moved to tears at having to
part from them. What happened to him after the children had gone I have
never been able quite to find out.
It _is_ said that, later on in the day, a curious-looking bird was seen
by the people in the Strand, clu
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