Carroll, Lewis, 1832-1898 -- Parodies, imitations, etc.; Fantasy fiction
“So pleased to see you,” said Mrs. Waxxe-Doll in a languid voice,
shaking hands with Boy, and holding her hand nearly on a level with
her head in doing so. “My husband,” she said, introducing Boy, and then
walking away.
“How do you do, sir?” said Boy, holding out his hand politely.
“What’s that to do with you?” exclaimed Mr. Wraxxe-Doll fiercely.
“People have been asking me that silly question all the evening. Do you
think I’ve got nothing better to do than stand here and answer foolish
conundrums like that? I wonder you don’t say it’s a fine evening and
have done with it! All the other folks have been saying that too, one
after the other, like a lot of brainless lunatics. ‘How do you do? It’s
a fine evening!’ Bah! If you haven’t anything better to talk about than
that, you had better have stopped away!” And Mr. Waxxe-Doll glared at
Boy till he felt quite alarmed.
“Don’t mind him,” said One-and-Nine, “it’s his way--come along!” and
he led the way into the Dancing Hall where the festivities were in full
swing. All kinds of toys were represented, and it was indeed, as Pierrot
had said it would be, a very mixed gathering.
[Illustration: 0040]
The guests were principally dolls dressed in the most varied of
costumes, from silks, brocades and satins, to black paint; some
fastidious-looking young gentlemen with fair curled hair, and dressed
in pale blue knitted suits, were leaning against the wall in affected
attitudes, and a whole group of Dutch dolls were gathered around a
military-looking person in a cocked hat lolling luxuriously on an
ottoman at one end of the room. There was a Toy Band at the other end,
which looked very imposing, but which Boy found out was only for show,
the Musicians only pretending to perform, while the music was really
supplied by a musical box hidden away at the back. A number of dolls
were dancing a polka when Boy and One-and-Nine entered, so they sat down
on a rout-seat near the door and watched them.
A supercilious-looking doll in evening dress sat next to Boy, fanning
herself fussily.
“Very mixed lot of people here,” she began, without the slightest
introduction. “I should not have come if I had known what to expect. Are
you a friend of Mr. Waxxe-Doll’s?” she asked.
“No, I’ve never met him before,” replied Boy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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