Dick, Marjorie and Fidge: A Search for the Wonderful Dodo
Dick, Marjorie and Fidge: A Search for the Wonderful Dodo by G. E. Farrow
Dick, Marjorie and Fidge: A Search for the Wonderful Dodo by G. E. Farrow
"Dick! Dick! 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 Dick 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."
Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick.
"Want to go and see the bur-ge-lers!" declared Fidge, pushing past them, and racing down the stairs.
"Come back, you scamp," cried Dick, 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, Dick! quick!"
Dick and Marjorie hurried down and leaned over the banisters too.
"Hullo! what a lark!" exclaimed Dick. "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.
"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 Dick, following his example; and in a moment all three children were comfortably ensconced in the novel craft.
Dick 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 passengers, Sis." The drawer of the table turned upside down made a capital upper deck, and Marjorie settled herself very comfortably upon it, after Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick'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! Dick, 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 Dick.
"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 Dick.
"I'm a Dodo," said the creature, with a consequential air.
"Oh! then you are extinct," said Dick. "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?"
"Good gracious, no," cried Dick.
"What does it mean, Dick, dear?" whispered Marjorie, who didn't like to appear ignorant.
"Gone out, I think," explained Dick. "Anyhow, they say a volcano is extinct when it has gone out."
"Yes, that's quite right," explained the Dodo, with a wink. "Haven't you ever heard the vulgar expression, 'Does your mother know you're out?' Well, where I come from, we just say, 'Is your maternal relative aware of your extinction?' instead. It's the same thing, you know, and sounds ever so much better. Then, again, it's most convenient, if any one calls whom you don't wish to see, just to tell the servants to say that you are extinct, and there is an end of the matter. But I mustn't stop all day, I must be off to sea."
"Are you going to sea on that chair?" cried Marjorie.
"Well, it's as good as a table anyhow, as far as I can see," laughed the Dodo. "Yes, I've an appointment with an Ichthyosaurus at the Equator at noon, so I must be off. Good-by. Oh! while I think of it, though, if you do come across him, you might give him my love, and tell him that I'm extinct, will you please? Ha-ha-he will be amused!"
"Who do you mean?" called out Dick, as the Dodo floated away on his chair.
"The little Panjandrum," was the reply; "you are pretty sure to meet him sooner or later."
"Oh, we're going to see the Pan-jan-de-lum," announced Fidge, capering about in glee. "Hooray!"
In the meantime the table had drifted on till the house was quite out of sight, and had reached the base of the cliffs, where the smugglers' cave was. The children had been there ever so many times before, and knew of a little gap in the rocks where, if only their boat would drift near enough, they could land, and clamber up to the roadway again. The boat, however, passed the gap, and drifted straight underneath the cave, from whence came a confused babel of sounds.
The children looked up, and a moment afterwards a crowd of the funniest little people imaginable came to the edge and peered over.
"What rum little beggars!" cried Dick. "Just look at their eyes!"
"I do believe they are Brownies, or else Gnomes!" declared Marjorie, who had read a great many fairy stories.
"Nonsense!" said Dick, with a superior air; "there are no such things now-a-days."
"A rope ladder was let down."
"Who says so?" shrieked the little people from the cave. "Come up here, and we'll soon show you."
"Oh, yes, do!" cried Marjorie, clapping her hands; "I should love to see them."
"I don't see how we are going to get up there," said Dick, dubiously; "we haven't got a ladder."
"We have one," shouted the little people. "Shall we let it down?"
"Oh, yes, please," clamored Marjorie, and immediately afterwards a rope ladder was let down, and one or two of the little men hung over the ledge to steady it.
"Come along," cried Marjorie, leading the way, while Fidge followed next, repeating over and over, with a delighted chuckle, "We are going to see the Pan-jan-de-lum! We are going to see the Pan-jan-de-lum!"
* * *
"You'll be my wife on paper only. You'll have everything-except my heart. You'll never be Marina." For five years, Lily lived as David's secret wife-his poised secretary by day, his invisible stand-in by night. Every cold touch reminded her she was just a replacement. Every whispered "Marina" cut deeper than the last. Then his ex returned. And without hesitation, David cast Lily aside like she meant nothing. So she did what she should have done years ago. She signed the divorce papers. She walked away. But now, David couldn't escape her absence. Her silence burned him in ways Marina never could. And suddenly, the man who swore he'd never love her was determined to get her back. By any means necessary. Even if it meant breaking her all over again. She paid the price for loving him once. Now, he'd pay for losing her forever.
I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"
My wealthy husband, Nathaniel, stormed in, demanding a divorce to be with his "dying" first love, Julia. He expected tears, pleas, even hysteria. Instead, I calmly reached for a pen, ready to sign away our life for a fortune. For two years, I played the devoted wife in our sterile penthouse. That night, Nathaniel shattered the facade, tossing divorce papers. "Julia's back," he stated, "she needs me." He expected me to crumble. But my calm "Okay" shocked him. I coolly demanded his penthouse, shares, and a doubled stipend, letting him believe I was a greedy gold digger. He watched, disgusted, convinced I was a monster. He couldn't fathom my indifference or ruthless demands. He saw avarice, not a carefully constructed facade. His betrayal had awakened something far more dangerous. The second the door closed, the dutiful wife vanished. I retrieved a burner phone and a Glock, ready to expose the elaborate lie he and Julia had built.
"You don't belong here. Get out!" Hanna, the rightful Wheeler daughter, came back only to be expelled by her family. Her fiancé cheated on her with the fake daughter, her brothers looked down on her, and her father ignored her. Then, she crossed paths with Chris, the formidable leader of the Willis family and her fiancé's uncle. "Let's pretend it never happened." Despite Hanna's hope to part ways, Chris insisted she be responsible. He threatened to reveal Hanna's true talents as an outstanding doctor, a brilliant screenwriter, and the brains behind a famous design studio, forcing her into marriage. Chris was once asked to protect someone. Destiny reunited them in tricky circumstances. He had planned to keep his promise and provide a safe haven, only to find Hanna was far from the delicate woman she seemed. She was witty and cunning...
I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria. But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity. A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love. My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me. Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego. He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press. He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan. He had no idea she was a fraud. He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her. He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate. At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her. I didn't beg. I didn't cry. I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play.
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