The Admiral’s Caravan/Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII. Something About the Camel. The wood wasn’t nearly so pleasant now as it had been before, and Dorothy was quite pleased when, after walking a little way, she came in sight again of the bank covered with rocking-chairs, and running up, she hurried through the little door into the toy-shop.

Everything was just as she had left it, and the stream was running merrily under the castle bridge; but just as she was going by, the bridge itself began hitching up in the middle and pawing, as it were, at the banks of the stream in such an extraordinary manner that she stopped to see what was going to happen.

“It’s sure to be something wonderous,” she said to herself, as she stood watching it, and she was quite right about this, for the bridge presently turned into a remarkably spirited rocking-horse (dappled, with black spots scattered about), and after rocking back and forth once or twice, as if to be sure it really was a horse, settled down perfectly still as if it never expected to be anything else. In fact, with the exception of a large fly, about as big as one of Dorothy’s feet, that was buzzing about, everything in the window was now perfectly quiet, and drawing a long breath of relief, she walked away through the shop.

As she walked along on the shelf, she presently came to the grocer’s shop and found the Caravan sitting in a row on a little bench at the door. The Admiral had the Camel in his lap, and they were all gazing at it with an air of extreme solicitude. It was a frowsy little thing with lumpy legs that hung down in a dangling way from the Admiral’s knees, and Sir Walter was busily employed trying to make it drink something out of a bottle. And found the Caravan sitting in a row on a little bench at the door “What are you giving him?” inquired Dorothy, curiously.

“Glue,” said the Admiral, promptly. “He needs stiffening up, you see.”

“Goodness gracious, what an awful dose!” said Dorothy, with a shudder.

“That doesn’t make any difference so long as he won’t take it,” said Sir Walter; and here he flew into a tremendous passion, and began beating the Camel about the head so furiously with the bottle that Dorothy cried out, “Here—stop that instantly!”

“He doesn’t mind it no more than if he was a bolster,” put in the Highlander. “Set him up again and let’s see him fall down,” he added, rubbing his hands together with a relish.

“Indeed, you’ll do nothing of the sort,” exclaimed Dorothy, with great indignation; and, snatching the Camel from the Admiral’s lap, she carried him into the grocer’s shop and set him down upon the floor. The Camel looked about for a moment with a very mournful expression on his face, and then climbed into one of the drawers that was standing open, and pulled it to after him as a person might close a door, and Dorothy, after watching this remarkable performance with great wonderment, went out again.

The Caravan had lost no time, and were standing on the bench, putting up a little sign on the front of the shop with “” on it, and Dorothy, trying not to laugh, said, “Is this your shop?”

“Yes,” replied the Admiral, with an important air. “The grocer’s been sold for a cook because he had an apron on, and we’ve taken the business.”

“What are you going to keep?” asked Dorothy, who was vastly amused at this idea.

“Why, we’re going to keep the shop,” said the Admiral, climbing down from the bench and staring at her in great surprise.

“But you must certainly keep things to sell,” said Dorothy.

“How can we keep things if we sell ’em?” inquired Sir Walter.

“Well, you can’t sell anything unless you keep it in the shop, you know,” persisted Dorothy, feeling that she was somehow or other getting the worst of the argument.

“Bosh!” said the Admiral, obstinately; “you can’t keep things you sell—that is,” he added, “not unless your customers are crazy”; and with this remark the Caravan went into the shop and shut the door in Dorothy’s face, as if she wasn’t worth talking to any longer.

Dorothy waited for a moment to see if they were coming out again, and then, as there was a noise inside as if they were piling up the drawers against the door by way of a barricade, she walked slowly away through the toy-shop.

She had had such a variety of adventures in the shop by this time that she was getting quite tired of the place, and she was walking along rather disconsolately, and wishing there was some way of growing to her natural size, and then getting back again to poor old Uncle Porticle and the Blue Admiral Inn, when, as she went around the corner of the little apothecary’s shop, she came suddenly upon Bob Scarlet. To her great surprise, he was now just about the size of an ordinary robin; but he had on his red waistcoat, and had quite as important an air as ever, and he was strolling about examining the various toys, and putting down the price of everything in a little red book, as if he were thinking of going into the business himself.

“Now, I wonder how he ever got to be that size,” thought Dorothy, as she hid behind a little pile of lead-pencils and watched him over the top of them. “I suppose he’s eaten something, or drunk something, to make him grow, the way they do in fairy stories; because the Admiral certainly said he wasn’t any bigger than an ant. And, oh! I wish I knew what it was,” she added, mournfully, as the tears came into her eyes at the thought of how small she was, “I wish I knew what it was!”

he dropped his little book, With an appearance of great agitation, and hurried away

A door at the back of the shop opened and they all rushed out “If I wasn’t a little afraid of him,” she went on, after she had had a little cry, “I’d ask him. But likely as not he’d peck at me—old peckjabber!” and here she laughed through her tears as she thought of the Caravan in their little sunbonnets. “Or p’r’aps he’d snap me up! I’ve often heard of snapping people up when they asked too many questions, but seems to me it never meant anything so awful as that before”; and she was rambling on in this way, laughing and crying by turns, when at this moment Bob Scarlet came suddenly upon a fine brass bird-cage, and, after staring at it in a stupefied way for an instant, he dropped his little book, with an appearance of great agitation, and hurried away without so much as looking behind him.

Dorothy ran after him, carefully keeping out of sight in case he should turn around, and as she went by the bird-cage she saw that it was marked “” in large letters. “And that’s what took the conceit out of you, mister,” she said, laughing to herself, and hurried along after the Robin.

As she caught sight of him again he was just scurrying by the grocer’s shop, and she could see the faces of the Caravan watching him, over the top of a little half-blind in the window, with an expression of the greatest concern, and the next moment a door at the back of the shop opened and they all rushed out. They had on their sunbonnets and shawls, and Dorothy saw that the Admiral was carrying the Camel under his arm; but before she could say a word to them they had scampered away and were out of sight.

By this time the toy-shop itself was all in a commotion. Dolls were climbing down from the shelves and falling over each other; the big marbles had in some way got out of the basket and were rolling about in all directions; and Dorothy could see the old dame at the further end of the shop, running about and frantically striking at one thing after another with her spoon. To make matters worse, quite a little army of tin soldiers suddenly appeared, running confusedly about, with the drawers from the little grocer’s shop upside down on their heads, and all calling “Fire!” at the top of their voices. As they couldn’t see where anybody was going, or where they were going themselves, it made the situation very desperate indeed.

Dorothy was frightened almost out of her wits, but she ran on in a bewildered sort of a way, dodging the rolling marbles and upsetting the dolls and the soldiers in great numbers, until she fortunately caught sight of the little rat-hole of a door, and, rushing through it, she hurried down the bank, knocking the green rocking-chairs about in every direction, and ran off into the wood as fast as she could go.