LORD BIG INTERVIEWING GENERAL QUICKSTEPPE AT THE LATTER’S RESIDENCE OF SATING HOUSE

      The Little Master was a stout frog of massive build, and on the wrong side of 60. His expression was that of a naturally masterful person, given power by exterior circumstances, but slightly pompous & inclined to worrey over small affairs: in appearance he was handsome, and was clad faultlessly in the fashion of 30 years ago. The Rajah was a young man of about 35, happy, careless, and humourous. The rabbit was like his fellow monarch but slightly stouter and not so agile.

      After a long pause, the frog observed, ‘I could put up with anyone in the Clique except that parrot Polonius Green! An ungentlemanly bird, of moderate faculties, and a set of nasty jokes.’

      ‘I don’t like him much myself,’ said Bunny, ‘but he’s very funny at times.’

      ‘Ah, he’s very funny at times!!’ repeated Lord Big sarcastically. ‘If you would only do as I desire & sign a formal objection to the bird, it would be to the point.’

      ‘But my dear Big,’ protested the Rajah, ‘one can’t fly in the face of the country’s will.’

      ‘Your fathers,’ said Big, ‘were kings in the truer sense of the word. The late rajah was not afraid to suspend from the house itself a member he disliked. Benjamin’s father was known to do many such things.’

      ‘But in those days –’

      ‘Kings could be men,’ vociferated the Little Master with unusual vigour.

      ‘Well,’ said the Rajah, ‘do I understand that you really object to the fellow?’

      ‘Certainly!’

      Big now rose and went out of the breakfast-room. The kings looked at each other: the rabbit spoke.

      ‘Well. Shall we –’

      ‘Lodge a formal objection?’

      ‘To Polonius Green.’

      ‘I think it would create a pleasant excitement.’

      ‘I tell you what: let us see Puddiphat about it.’

      Suiting the action to the word, the pair rose and having cast a glance at their morning coats, they walked out into Regency St After going along this thourafare for some 300 yds. they stopped before ‘The Regency’ Inn. ‘We’ll find the Viscount inside,’ said the ’jah, and with that they entered.

      CHAPTER II

      Leaving the Palace, the Little-Master had stepped into a carriage and driven to the Calcutta house of Lord Quicksteppe, Field-Marshal and ex Clique member. His reasons for paying a visit at this early and consequently unusual hour were multiplex. Firstly he wanted his friend’s advice as to what he should do at the meeting of the new Clique. Secondly he wanted to know why on earth he (Quicksteppe) had gone off for a holyday in Clarendon at this crisis.

      Arrived before the solid house, he was shown into a salon furnished in the solid splendour and comfort which the old soldier affected. Presently the owner entered: let us observe Field Marshal Frederic Jones Quicksteppe as he is in his 51st year. A tall man of thin once athletic frame, with a flowing brindled beard: a countenance whose noble brow betrayed profound wisdom, while the roguish twinkle in the eyes told that in his laxer moments he might be what is vulgarly termed ‘a gay old spark’.

      ‘By dear Big! This is an unexpected pleasure.’

      ‘Good morning. Ah, Quicksteppe what have you been doing abroad?’

      ‘Resting: you seem perturbed.’

      ‘Ah it is this new Clique is bothering me. As you know there [are] many people in it of whom I disaprove. Especially that parrot – Green.’

      ‘Oh: I am sorrey of that.’

      ‘Of course I said to the boys – I mean to the Majesties – that they ought to sign a formal objection to the bird: naturally I don’t really mean that they should go so far, but then they don’t take any notice.’

      ‘My dear Big,’ cried Quicksteppe, ‘you’ve made a fool of yourself.’

      ‘My Lord!!’

      ‘Yes. What if they happen to take you at your word?’

      ‘Ah, indeed there such fellows I never know what they may do!’

      ‘Well, get back to the palace at once & see them. When does the meeting start?’

      ‘At 11.’

      ‘Just time.’

      ‘Good-morning.’

      The frog dashed back to his carriage & made what speed he might back to the palace. Here needless to say he did not find them, because they were at the Regency with Puddiphat.

      CHAPTER III

      When we left them, the two kings had entered the Inner of the Regency, and soon found Viscount Puddiphat, still breaking his fast; this remarkable owl deserves some attention. He was the gayest of all gay Boxonian society, and was reputed to know more about matters sartorial than anyone else alive. He was the proprietor of a large number of eminently successful music-halls called the Alhambras. In appearance he was plump, immaculate, and self-satisfied.

      ‘Good morning your Majesties!’ cried the owl. ‘I hear you are having your new Clique meeting to day.’

      ‘I believe so,’ said Bunny with a prodigious yawn, ‘but by Jove we’ll make things hum.’

      ‘Why? Have Your Majesties any scheme on?’

      ‘Scheme!’ reiterated the rajah. ‘Rather! We are going to formally object to Polonius Green; at least that is what we are thinking of and we came to ask your advice.’

      Puddiphat rose & lit a cigar. ‘Yes: by all means do so. The bird annoys me by the way he wears his clothes. And as well it will make things move.’

      Thanking their friend for his council the two boys decided that, as it was now late, they would go at once to the Clique-meeting. With this intention they directed their steps towards the House of Parliament. Having arrived at the stately

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