"In truth," said the Widow Pickle, "I am of a mind myself to go to this wonderful place of which you talk. I would like to seek my fortune and that of my Twins. Have you credibly informed me that Twins with malazite-and corazine-colored hair would have a good chance in that country?" "I have told you the truth," said the little dark man; "but I must say it is very far from here to the Island of Gee-Whiz, some hundreds of thousands of miles across the seas." "Then, sir, how did you come here yourself?" "I came by the Gee-Whiz Submarine Express," replied the Private Secretary. "How else should I come?" "Alas! I don't know what you mean," said the Widow Pickle at this. "Not know, madam? Why, you have all the means for summoning the Submarine Express directly at your command." "Where? where?" asked the Widow excitedly. The little man pointed at the cupboard where the late Aurelius Pickle had been accustomed to keep his Chemical Substances. "Why, to be sure," said the Widow Pickle, "it must be in the cupboard, for it was there I found the two strange powders which went off with a flash." By this time, the Twins were dancing around the room in excitement, running toward the cupboard, which had never seemed so full of interest before, even in their hungriest moments. "Are you ready for your journey, madam?" asked the Private Secretary. "I declare, I've more than half a mind to learn what all this means," said the Widow Pickle. "Get us ready for the journey, mamma," cried the Twins, as though it were all settled. "Very well," said the Widow, "we may as well be prepared for anything that may happen. First let me comb your Royal Hereditary Hair. Lulu, go fetch me the blue comb, and you, Zuzu, get the pale-green one, on top of the dresser, at the right hand as you go in. I can not help feeling," said the Widow Pickle, as she combed the long, wavy hair of her two children, "as though something was going to happen." At that moment the Enchanted Banjo, held once more by the joyful Twins, began this remarkable song: SOMETHING'S GOING TO HAPPEN Such a squidgy feeling in my bones! Such a tingling tangling of my hair! Something whispers now in warning tones That it will be best if I take care. I keep looking out on either side, Watching for just what I do not know-- Will it sit, or stand, or walk, or ride? Wonder will it come, or will it go? Something's sure to happen-- Oh, what can it be? Something, something, something Keeps on warning me. I shiver and I quiver, I tremble and I bow-- Something's sure to happen! When? And where? And how?