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John Dough and the Cherub

"You're a bad man!" said Chick, stamping one small foot indignantly.

"I'm not," answered Ali Dubh; "I'm a good man. And I paid Jules Grogrande fifty cents for this gingerbread imitation of a man, who is mixed with my own magic Elixir. Also I paid a witch nine dollars to transport me to wherever the gingerbread man might be – which is right here – that I might take possession of my own property. So I've got him, and he's paid for, and he's mine, and I claim the right to eat him whenever I please."

"You'll do no such thing," declared Chick. "Why, John Dough is alive, and no one has a right to make him dead and then eat him – even if he is paid for!"

"Don't worry, my Cherub," said the big-headed man, soothingly; "we'll go at once and lock this Arab in a strong room of the castle, so that he can't possibly escape."

Chick smiled sweetly at this promise; but the Arab scowled and said, grimly:

"Never mind. My time will come. Some day I shall surely eat that gingerbread man, in spite of this Cherub and all the rest of you."

This defiance made the Brotherhood of Failings and the big-headed man so angry that they at once dragged Ali Dubh away to the castle, and John Dough and Chick followed after, hand in hand, and feeling quite safe.

Presently they came to a great archway that led into the courtyard of the castle. Having passed through this arch, the gingerbread man saw groups of the most astonishing people, who were busying themselves over extraordinary tasks, such as building machines, boiling strange-smelling chemicals in queer pots, drawing curious designs, and like occupations. A sudden crash announced that the Blunderer had fallen into the middle of a delicate machine and smashed it into bits. Before they could pull him out the Unlucky One ran against the whirling arm of a windmill and was tossed half-way across the courtyard, while the Awkward One upset a boiling kettle and set every one to coughing who inhaled the odor of the compound that was spilled upon the ground.

To John's surprise no one seemed much worried over these accidents. Even the victims joined in Chick's merry laughter, and those of the Failings who had escaped disaster calmly proceeded to lock up the Arab in a cell that had a strong iron grating for a door, and fastened with a huge padlock.

Afterward they all entered through a second arch into the great hall of the castle.

This was a long, wide room with a tiled floor, and walls that were covered with many trophies, such as armor, spears, battle-axes, and swords of ancient design.

At the farther end was a raised platform upon which stood a gorgeous throne. Back of the throne was an electric sign, flashing one letter at a time, and reading: "What is Home without a kinglet?" Over the throne was suspended an enormous crown – big enough for a giant – which sparkled with gems. Beside the throne a very fat man sat in a chair so low that his knees nearly touched his chin. He wore a short red coat, a wide white vest, and blue knee-breeches, and all were embroidered in gold. The fat man's eyes were closed and he seemed asleep.

Within the throne sat the kinglet, propped upon purple cushions, so that he would fit it better. For the kinglet was a small boy with a long, freckled face, blue eyes, a pug nose, and black hair banged across his forehead, and hanging in lank, straight locks far down over his shoulders. He wore an ermine cloak lined with purple, and bore in his hand a sceptre with a jewelled ball at one end, while beyond the ball projected a small golden knob. The kinglet's slim legs were crossed under him like those of a Turk, and he seemed very frail and delicate.

However, when the Failings and the Fresh-Air Fiend and Chick and John Dough entered, the kinglet's brow was puckered into a frown, and his blue eyes fairly flashed fire.

"Odds Zooks!" he cried, as they all knelt before the throne, "why have you dared to wait until this hour to pay me your devoirs?"

Then he leaned down and prodded the fat man with the knob of his sceptre, so that the sleeper started and opened his eyes. "Is that right, Nebbie? Is 'devoir' a kingly word?" he demanded.

"Absolutely kingly, your Majesty," said the fat man, yawning. "It was used by King Arthur and Richard Cœur de Leon."

"Very well!" said the kinglet, proudly. Then he turned again to the kneeling group before him. "Why don't you answer me?" he exclaimed. "Why are you so late in paying me your boudoirs?"

"Devoirs, your Majesty!" said the fat man, hastily.

"I said 'devoirs'!" returned the kinglet, turning upon him in anger.

"We are late because we did not get here sooner," said the Awkward; "and we could not get here sooner because we were late."

"So!" shrieked his Majesty, with blazing eyes. "Now by my halidom – " he paused suddenly, and turned to the fat man, prodding him so fiercely that he jumped several feet into the air. "Is 'halidom' the right word, Nebbie?"

"Sure," said the fat man, nodding emphatically.

"What does it mean?" asked the kinglet.

"What does halidom mean?"

"Yes."

"Why, a halidom is a halidom," said the fat man, thoughtfully; "and belongs to kings."

"But what is it?" persisted the kinglet, impatiently.

"It's a – a – a sort of a royal prerogative, and is usually painted red," returned the fat man, and immediately resumed his seat and closed his eyes again.

The kinglet sighed, and turned anew to the Failings.

"Let me see," he remarked; "where was I?"

"You were by your halidom, your Majesty," suggested the Blunderer.

"Oh, yes." Again the long freckled face took on a frown. "By my halidom, churl – " He stopped to glance at the fat man.

"Churl is all right," mumbled Nebbie, without opening his eyes.

"By my halidom, churl, you shall either swallow my sceptre or die the death!"

"What death?" asked the Blunderer, trembling.

"The one that makes people dead," replied the kinglet, sternly. "Choose, then, varlet – " ("Varlet is good," said Nebbie, quickly, to avoid a thrust) "whether to swallow my sceptre or die the death!"

The Blunderer glanced at the sceptre, the jewelled ball of which was nearly as large as his head.

"I'll swallow the sceptre," he said.

"Good," cried the kinglet, and held it toward him.

"But not now," added the Blunderer, hastily; "I'll take my time about it. You didn't say when, you know."

The kinglet turned red with rage.

"Now, by the royal Juggernaut of Jowl – " he began.

"If I should swallow it now," continued the Blunderer, calmly, "you would cease to be a kinglet; for a kinglet without a sceptre is nothing but a flibberjig."

"What!" shrieked his Majesty, jabbing the fat man furiously.

"That's right," declared Nebbie, groaning and rubbing his fat side dolefully. "A kinglet without a sceptre is a flibberjig, and I'll be black and blue by to-morrow morning!"

"Well," said his Majesty, after considering the matter, "I forbid you, Sir Blunderer, to swallow my sceptre until I give you leave."

Then his eye fell upon John Dough and Chick, who were standing at one side of the Failings, and immediately the little kinglet looked surprised, and then curious, and then annoyed. But perhaps the annoyed look was because Chick laughed in the royal face in a way that was certainly disrespectful, and even John Dough didn't look at all humble.

"Here, you Chick; behave yourself," commanded the kinglet.

"I won't," said Chick, pouting two pretty lips.

"Well, this kingdom existed at one time without an Incubator Baby, and I believe we could spare you now. I'll have your saucy head cut off," declared the kinglet.

"I dare you!" said Chick, making a face.

"There's a nice child, I must say!" retorted the kinglet, scowling. "But what can we expect of a baby that has no parents and no proper bringing-up? Bah! I'm ashamed of you, Chick!"

"Don't you dare say anything against my Incubator!" cried Chick, angrily. "I guess I've had as good bringing-up as you have, you disagreeable kinglet, you!"

His Majesty was at first about to retort with equal anger; but he suddenly changed his mind and turned to John Dough.

"Who are you, stranger?" he asked. "And why are you wearing the Blunderer's armor?"

So much disrespect had been shown this kinglet by his subjects that John was about to reply lightly to these questions; but to his surprise Chick grasped his hand and whispered to him to make a low bow and to be very careful what he said. So the gingerbread man stepped forward and addressed his Majesty with great ceremony.

"Oh, most puissant and serene kinglet!" he began; "I am called John Dough, because I am made of gingerbread; and I came to your Isle because I could not help it."

The kinglet looked upon the stranger with a kindly expression.

"'Puissant and serene'!" he murmured. "Evidently, John Dough, you are a person of wit and intelligence, such as are most welcome to the Isle of Phreex. Kneel thou at my feet."

John knelt, as commanded, and the kinglet at once dealt him a sharp blow upon the Blunderer's helmet with the heavy end of the royal sceptre. It dented in the steel plate, and would have crushed the gingerbread man's head had it not been so well protected by the helmet.

"I dub you Knight of Phreex," said his Majesty. "Rise, Sir John Dough – villain no longer, but noble and favored among my subjects!"

John stood up and bowed, although he was slightly dazed by the force of the blow.

"Long live the gentle Kinglet of Phreex," he managed to say. And Chick clapped two chubby hands with glee, and whispered: "Well done, my friend!"

"You please me, Sir John," remarked the little kinglet, swelling out his chest complacently. "I wish all the people of Phreex were so polite and discerning." Then he looked around and inquired: "Where's Sir Austed Alfrin, the Poet Laureate?"

Immediately a drapery parted, and a man with a pale, thin face and long black hair entered and saluted his Majesty with profound respect. The Poet had a bandage over one eye and hobbled as if lame in one leg. He was clothed all in black, and his long frock coat had grease spots down the front of it.

"Have you made me a sonnet to-day?" demanded the little kinglet.

"Yes, my royal Master," answered the Poet; and, pompously unrolling a scroll, he read in a loud, falsetto voice, these lines:

 
"There is a wise Kinglet of Phreex,
Whose wit is so great that it leaks;
His brain isn't big,
But who cares a fig
While wisdom from him fairly reeks?"
 

"Now, that's not so bad," said his Majesty, reflectively. "But can't you make it a little stronger, Sir Poet?"

"I'll try," replied Austed Alfrin; and after pencilling some words on his tablets he read as follows:

 
"The Goddess of Wisdom felt sad;
And when asked why she whimpered so bad,
Said: 'There's one, it is true,
Who knows more than I do —
And the Kinglet of Phreex is the lad!'"
 

"Now that," said his Majesty, "strikes me as being real poetry. How does it strike you, Sir John Dough?"

"It's fairly good," replied the gingerbread man; "but it hardly does you justice."

"The Poet doesn't dare do his Majesty justice," said the Disagreeable Failing. "If he did, there would soon be no Poet."

"There's something in that, too," said the kinglet. "But now, Sir Austed, write me a sonnet on my new subject, Sir John Dough."

The Poet sighed and began writing on his tablets; and presently he read this:

 
"The Kinglet of Phreex, it is said,
Has a Knight made of stale gingerbread;
We could eat him, but yet
The dyspepsia we'd get
Would soon make us wish we were dead."
 

"That," said John, indignantly, "is rank libel; and if your Majesty will loan me your sceptre, I'll make an end of this Poet in seven seconds by the clock."

"You have my permission to make mince-meat of him," replied the kinglet, cheerfully.

"Mercy! mercy, my lord!" screamed the Poet, falling upon his knees before John and hastily wiping the verse off his tablets, "give me one more chance, I beg of you!"

"Very well," said the gingerbread knight. "But if it's no better than the last you shall be discharged. Is it not so, your Majesty?"

"Quite so," laughed the kinglet.

The Poet nervously scribbled another set of lines, which he read in a voice that trembled with fear:

 
"The Gingerbread Man is so sweet,
To eat him would be a rare treat;
He's crisp and well spiced,
And you'd find, were he sliced,
That the eggs in him cannot be beat!"
 

"That's better," said John, "but I'm not sure about the eggs, as I did not pay much attention when I was mixed. However, this sincere tribute to my excellence will save you from my displeasure, and you may go free."

The Poet did not wait an instant, but ran from the hall as fast as his legs would carry him.

The kinglet now dismissed the Failings, who left the royal presence quarrelling and threatening one another, and making so much noise and uproar that the gingerbread man was glad to see them go.

"Aren't they nice?" asked the kinglet, looking after them. "I'd like to drown them all in the castle moat, like kittens; but every kinglet, they say, has his Failings, so I suppose I must keep mine."

He sighed, and continued: "But what did the Poet's sonnet say about your being crisp and well spiced, and rather good eating were you sliced?"

"Don't pay any attention to that, your Majesty!" said John, hastily.

"But why not?" persisted the kinglet. "I declare, Sir John, there's something about you that makes me hungry whenever I look at you. I don't remember having eaten any gingerbread since I was a boy – ahem! – I mean since I came to rule over the Isle of Phreex. Ho there, my guards! Fetch me a knife!"

John was now trembling with terror; but Chick said to the kinglet: "Your Majesty forgets that you are to have pancakes and maple-syrup for tea. What's the use of spoiling your appetite, when you know the gingerbread man will keep good for weeks?"

"Are you sure?" asked the kinglet, anxiously. "Are you sure he'll keep? Won't he get stale?"

"Of course not," answered the child. "He's the kind of gingerbread that always keeps good. And you mustn't forget he'll be a credit to the Isle of Phreex; for whoever saw a live gingerbread man before?"

"Nobody," declared the kinglet, positively. "You're right, my Cherub; I'll save the gingerbread man for another meal, and in the meantime I can show him off before my people. We pride ourselves, Sir John, on having a greater variety of queer personages than any other kingdom in existence."

"Then you ought to be careful of them, and not permit them to be eaten," said John, still anxious. But the kinglet did not seem to hear him.

"Pancakes and maple-syrup!" muttered his Majesty, longingly. "Dear me, Chick; I wish tea were ready now."

"So do I," said Chick, laughing; for John Dough was safe from being eaten just then, whatever might be his future fate, and the child had saved him by the mention of the cakes and syrup.

But now a sudden hubbub was heard at the door, and in rushed a number of the royal guard wheeling a big platform on which was seated a woman so exceedingly fat that she appeared to be much wider than she was long.

"Here! what's the trouble with Bebe Celeste?" asked the kinglet, frowning.

"She has lost two ounces, your Majesty," puffed one of the guards, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with his coat sleeve.

"Two ounces!" shouted the kinglet. "Now, by the toga of Samson – by the way, Nebbie, did Samson wear a toga?" He punched the fat man so severely that Nebbie gave a roar of pain before he answered.

"He wore several, your Majesty!"

"Then, by the several togas of Samson, Bebe Celeste, how dare you come before me two ounces shy?"

"I didn't come; I was brought," said the fat woman, in a wheezy voice.

"She was weighed in the balance and found wanting," said the guardsman.

"What was she wanting?" asked the kinglet.

"Two ounces, your Majesty."

The ruler rubbed his pug nose with one finger, in a reflective manner.

"Bebe," said he, "you've been exercising again. You're trying to reduce!"

The woman began to cry. "'T ain't my fault, your royal giblet – "

"Kinglet, woman!" said the fat man, without opening his eyes.

"Your royal kinglet, I didn't mean to lose a single flutter o' flesh. But my dog Duo got to quarrelling with himself and I got exercised in my mind – "

"Oh, the loss is in your mind, is it?" interrupted the kinglet. "I wouldn't mind the loss if I had not forbidden you to exercise at all, even in your mind."

"I couldn't help it, your fudgesty – "

"Majesty, woman!" said the fat man, sleepily.

"My dog Duo got to quarrelling – "

"Bring us the dog, varlets, churls, and vassals!" screeched the kinglet, in his shrill voice.

The guards stumbled over each other to obey; and presently they returned leading such a curious animal that John Dough stared at it in amazement.

It was a dog, without doubt; or rather, it was a dog's body with a head and two legs at either end of it. So that when one end walked forward the other end had to walk backward, and that made the back end growl angrily. But the same end was not always the back end of the dog; for first one head, and then the other, would prove strongest, and drag the curious animal forward.

When this double dog, which was named Duo, was brought in, both heads were snarling and barking in a very noisy manner. But however much enraged they were, they could never get together to do one another mischief.

"Be silent!" yelled the kinglet, annoyed at the clamor.

But the dog's heads paid no attention to the command.

"Very well," said his Majesty; "I'll put a stop to your noise for good and all! Here, you guards, fetch me the Royal Executioner!"

The fat lady began crying anew at this, and presently the door opened and a young girl entered the hall. She was clothed in simple robes of pure white, over which her loose brown hair flowed in a soft cloud. Her eyes were large and dark and very gentle in expression, and her cheeks were fair as a lily. In one hand the maid bore a long sword, the naked blade of which shone brightly in the light. In the other hand was a sharpening-stone, and as she bowed before the kinglet she rubbed the stone gently against the keen edge of the blade.

Although the dog's heads were still quarrelling, and Bebe Celeste still weeping, it was upon John Dough that the Royal Executioner first turned her eyes.

"I hope it isn't this one, your Majesty!" she said, in a voice of disappointment; "for he won't bleed at all, being made of cake."

"I beg your pardon," exclaimed John, hastily. "I am not cake, but gingerbread."

"It's just the same," she answered, sighing; "you wouldn't bleed if I cut you into bits."

"Why are you so bloodthirsty?" asked John, looking reproachfully into the girl's gentle eyes.

"Because I'm the Royal Executioner, I suppose," she answered. "I've held the office ever since my father was destroyed by an earthquake; but I've never yet executed a single person. The kinglet calls me in about a dozen times a day, but something always happens to rob me of my victim. I've worn out three sword blades, sharpening them, but I've never carved anything yet!"

"Be of good cheer," said his Majesty, "for now you shall see blood flow like water. This time I am fully resolved to be terrible. Cut me this snarling cur into two parts!"

"What, the dog?" asked the girl, surprised. And Bebe began to scream loudly; and the fat man woke up and shook his head, and Chick patted both heads of the animal tenderly, and a guardsman cried out: "Oh, no, your Majesty!"

"And why not?" inquired the kinglet.

"Why, this is the most valuable creature in all your dominions!" said the guard. "Do you desire to rob yourself of such a treasure, your Majesty?"

The kinglet hesitated, and then jabbed the fat man with his sceptre.

"Is it so, Nebbie?" he asked.

"It is so, my Lord," answered the fat man. "If you want to butcher anything, cut up a few of the Royal Guards, or mince the Failings, or carve Chick, the Cherub. But the dog Duo is one of the remarkable features of your kingdom, and should be preserved at all hazards. Why, he's worth more than Bebe Celeste."

"That reminds me of Bebe," said the kinglet, looking at the fat one sternly. "Take her away, guards, and stuff her with mashed potatoes and pate de foi gras. If she doesn't regain those two ounces in three days, she'll disgrace my kingdom, and I'll turn her over to the Royal Executioner."

So the guards trundled away the platform on which the fat lady sat, and the dog Duo followed, first one head leading, and then the other. And now his Majesty threw off his ermine robe and laid down the sceptre and scrambled out of the throne.

"The royal audience is ended for to-day," he said, "and now I'll go and see if those cakes and maple-syrup are ready for tea. And see here, you Incubator Baby, look after Sir John Dough, and mind that nobody eats him. If there's one bite gone when I see him again I'll turn you over to the Royal Executioner – and then there won't be any Incubator Baby."

Then his Majesty walked away, chuckling to himself in a very disagreeable manner. At once the fat Nebbie rolled out of his low seat and stood up, yawning and stretching out his arms.

"Our kinglet is a hard master," said he, with a sigh, "and I really wish some one would get up a revolution and dethrone him. He's been punching my ribs all day long, and I'll be black and blue by to-morrow morning."

"He's cruel," said Chick, patting the fat man's hand, as if to comfort him.

"Yet he's too tender-hearted to suit me," complained the lovely Executioner. "If I could only shed a single drop of blood, I'd feel that I am of some use in the world."

"How dreadful!" cried John, with a shudder.

"Oh, not at all!" said the girl. "For what's the object of being an Executioner if one can't execute?" And she tucked the sword under her arm and took out her handkerchief and went away weeping sorrowfully.