d.i.c.k, Marjorie and Fidge.

by G. E. Farrow.

TO MY DEAR LITTLE FRIENDS.

Here is another book! I hope it will be as fortunate in pleasing you, as the others seem to have been, if I may judge from the many kind and gratifying letters which have reached me from boys and girls, of all ages and sizes, and from all parts of the world.

And in connection with these letters, which I always try (though the pleasurable task grows heavier year by year) to answer myself, I have had the misfortune to lose a large packet of unanswered ones; so if any of my little correspondents have written to me during the past year, and have not received a reply, will he or she write to me again, and give me an opportunity of repairing the omission?

I am getting quite proud of my gallery of photographs, which my little friends have sent me, and which, I think, please me almost more than anything else, if I may except a beautiful Persian kitten which has come as a present from a little girl at Hereford, and which is a prime favorite with every one here, including d.i.c.k, my little terrier, who--although he ought to know better at his age, being over eight--"galumphs" about in an absurdly clumsy manner, under the mistaken impression that he is playing with it. He only succeeds, however, in making himself ridiculous in the eyes of the kitten, who, despite his years, treats him with little or no respect, and does not hesitate to box his ears, and bite his tail whenever it feels so disposed.

But I see my s.p.a.ce is nearly exhausted, so must conclude, with very best wishes, and hoping to hear again from all of my old friends, and as many new ones as care to write.

Believe me, Your affectionate friend, THE AUTHOR.

d.i.c.k, MARJORIE AND FIDGE.

CHAPTER I.

THE BEGINNING OF A MARVELOUS JOURNEY.

"d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k! Wake up, I want to tell you something." Marjorie stood outside the boy's bedroom door, and called in as loud a whisper as she dared, fearing lest she should awaken the rest of the household. There was a scuffle and a patter of bare feet inside, and d.i.c.k appeared at the door rubbing his eyes, evidently only half awake.

"What's up?" he demanded.

"Hush! don't make a noise. There's such a funny sound down-stairs--I believe it's burglars. Listen!"

"Pooh! this time in the morning. What nonsense."

"Well it's been going on for ever so long, anyhow, and hark, there's something keeps banging about like anything in the breakfast-room."

d.i.c.k ran to the top of the stairs and listened. Sure enough, there was a most mysterious noise going on below,--a dull banging at regular intervals, and a curious lapping sound, as though there was water in the lower part of the house.

"Let's go and see what's up!" said d.i.c.k promptly.

"Me too," said a shrill treble voice, and a little curly-headed apparition came running out of the bedroom, flourishing a wooden spade.

"No! you cut along into bed again, Fidge," cried d.i.c.k.

"Want to go and see the bur-ge-lers!" declared Fidge, pushing past them, and racing down the stairs.

"Come back, you scamp," cried d.i.c.k, running after him; but with a saucy and defiant laugh Fidge sped down to the first landing.

"Ooh!" he cried, looking over the banisters, "It's all drownded; look, d.i.c.k! quick!"

d.i.c.k and Marjorie hurried down and leaned over the banisters too.

"Hullo! what a lark!" exclaimed d.i.c.k. "There's been a high tide, and the house is flooded. Come on, this is ripping!" and the boy dashed down-stairs, followed by the others.

The breakfast-room door stood open, and, wading ankle deep in water, the children soon reached it. An extraordinary sight met their eyes.

The French windows were open, and the curtains were blowing about in the breeze, while the sea had risen so high that the white-capped waves were flowing quite into the room, in which the utmost confusion prevailed.

Chairs and various light articles were strewn about in all directions, and the table, by some mysterious process, had been turned completely over, and was floating about with its legs sticking up in the air. It was evidently the noise which that had made, dashing against the door, which had awakened Marjorie.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The waves were flowing into the room."]

The children stood silently regarding it for a moment, and then Fidge, with a delighted exclamation cried, "I want a ride in the boat," and began to scramble into the overturned table.

"Oh! yes, jolly!" cried d.i.c.k, following his example; and in a moment all three children were comfortably ensconced in the novel craft.

d.i.c.k found a stick floating about, which he used as a punting pole, and soon had the table through the window and out into the garden.

"I'll be captain," he cried, "and you and Fidge shall be pa.s.sengers, Sis." The drawer of the table turned upside down made a capital upper deck, and Marjorie settled herself very comfortably upon it, after d.i.c.k had rigged up what he was pleased to call an awning with a little table-cloth, and a piece of string which he had in the pocket of his pyjamas.

Fidge, however, had no idea of remaining inactive, and insisted upon taking a part in the management of the craft, and so d.i.c.k made him the "Bosun," and set him to work rowing with his little wooden spade.

Out in the garden the water became deeper, and Captain d.i.c.k's pole would not reach the bottom; still, owing to some mysterious influence, their curious boat drifted merrily on, and the children did not puzzle themselves in the least as to the cause of their progress. It was quite enough for them to notice how strange and unnatural the gardens and all the familiar surroundings appeared in their present inundated state. The rosebushes and hedges looked so funny, growing out of the water, and there were such a lot of curious things floating about--a hen-coop, a wash-tub, and an old hamper had hurried past; and their boat had drifted as far as the gate leading out into the roadway, when Marjorie jumped up and pointed excitedly to something floating rapidly towards them.

"Look! d.i.c.k, look! there's an old turkey on a chair coming along."

As the object drew nearer, however, they could see that it was not a turkey, or, indeed, any bird with which they were familiar, but a most curious-looking creature. It had an oddly-shaped beak, webbed feet, and a funny great tuft of feathers for a tail.

"Why, the thing has gloves on!" cried Captain d.i.c.k.

"And a blue bow around its neck," chimed in Fidge, his eyes dancing with excitement.

"Ship ahoy!" shouted the bird, as it came close up to the table.

"Good gracious! Why it can talk," said Marjorie.

"Talk! Of course I can," answered the bird. "Why not, pray?"

"Well, birds don't generally talk, except parrots," added Marjorie, as an afterthought.

"Parrots!" exclaimed the bird, stamping furiously on the seat of the chair; "I hate 'em--nasty, showy, pretentious, ill-bred creatures; regular shrieking hypocrites, that's what I call 'em."

"What sort of a bird are you, then?" asked d.i.c.k.

"I'm a Dodo," said the creature, with a consequential air.

"Oh! then you are extinct," said d.i.c.k. "I read it in a natural history book."

"Yes, I am," admitted the Dodo. "It's lovely being extinct," he added, complacently. "Have you ever tried it?"