."

Before I could settle down to work again the Rhymester and A. Fish,
Esq., returned.

"Where's the Wallypug?" I demanded.

"Oh, he's coming by the next 'bus," said the Rhymester. "Haven't you
had any rain here?"

"No," I replied.

"Oh, we had quidt a sharb shower," said A. Fish, Esq., "ad I was
afraid of gettig wet, so we stopped a 'bus--there was odly roob for
two though, ad the Wallypug said thad he would cub od by the dext."

"I hope he will get home all right," I said anxiously. "I don't think
you ought to have left his Majesty by himself."

"Oh! it's only a little way," said the Rhymester; "he's sure to get
home all right."

[Illustration: "SO WE STOPPED A 'BUS"]

An hour passed and there was no signs of the Wallypug. I now began
to get seriously anxious.

It would, of course, be the easiest thing in the world for his Majesty
to take the wrong 'bus, and be taken goodness knows where.

I couldn't think what was best to be done. The Rhymester suggested
sending the Crier out, but I never remembered having seen one at
Kensington, and at last, after searching for some time ourselves in
Kensington Gardens, and making inquiries in High Street, and failing
to glean any tidings of his Majesty, I thought it best to go to the
Police Station.

Here I found a very important-looking official in uniform, with a big
book in front of him.

"What is it?" he inquired, glaring at me fiercely.

"I've called to know if you could assist me in finding a friend who, I
fear, has lost his way," I replied.

The official did not answer me, but reached down another large book.

"What's his name?" he inquired gruffly.

"His name? Oh--er--his name is--er--that is to say he is the--" I had
not the least idea what the Wallypug's name really was, so I couldn't
very well say.

"What's his name?" shouted the official. "I'll ask you what he _is_
presently."

"Well, I'm very sorry, but I really do not know his name."

The man glanced at me very suspiciously.

"You said he was a friend of yours--it's a very odd thing that you
don't know his name. What is he?"

"He's a--a--Wallypug," I stammered. "That is to say he--er--"

"Wallypug!" exclaimed the man contemptuously. "What's that?"

"Why, it's a kind of king, you know," I explained, feeling that the
explanation was rather a lame one.

"A _kind_ of king!" exclaimed the police officer. "Explain yourself."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't explain more clearly than that," I r