Dido and Pa Read Online Free PDF Page A

hum. Oh, pisky bless us; how I do need a little something."
    "
Whose
deathbed?" queried Dido, now really cross and very puzzled.
    "One o' myoldestfriends—dear, poor fellow—told him fetch m'daughter t'tend ailing brow—anyhow, not far now," added Mr. Twite gladly, looking out of the window, where the rain was showing a disagreeable tendency to turn to snow.
    After another half hour's drive Dido exclaimed, "Croopus, Pa, we're a-crossing
London Bridge!
You never said as you was bringing me to London?"
    "Did I not, my seraph? Ah dear me, what an absent-minded old fellow I am becoming. It is the power of music—the penalty of music."
    "Of music, Pa?"
    "When I am engulfed in themes for a new serenade, a new suite, a new symphony—why, don't you see, that drives all other considerations out of my poor head.
Turn, turn, terum, titherum, tarum, tarum, tiddle-I-dee!
" And Mr. Twite suddenly burst into vigorous song, the violence of which almost seemed as if it might shake him to pieces. He looked like an aged molting thrush.
    Dido, however, at this burst of musical activity, eyed him a little more respectfully.
    "Are you making up some new tunes, then, Pa?"
    "I am always at it, my euphorbia. But, bless us, yes, my mind is at present engrossed—
mgrrrr-osssed,
" he repeated, giving the word a slightly guttural, foreign accent. "I am engrossed in a suite for a Royal Progress."
    "Like, you mean, when the king goes from St. James's Palace to Hampton Court?"
    "Just so, my poppet. I plan to call my suite The Royal Tunnel Music."
    "Why Tunnel Music, Pa?"
    "Why, my chicken, you probably may not be aware, having been absent for so long on your travels, but the old king, King James, had, while he was alive, put in hand the work for a tunnel to be dug under the river Thames, running from Shadwell to Rotherhithe. This tunnel was, in fact, all but completed when he died, and the new king, King Richard—that is—ahem!—will open it at a grand opening ceremony shortly." Under his breath Mr. Twite murmured, "And then, just won't there be fireworks! Oh, butter my whiskers."
    "So, is your Tunnel Music a-going to be played at the opening ceremony, Pa?"
    "Well, my lovekin, that remains to be seen. But I hope so, I certainly do hope so."
    And Mr. Twite gave several very emphatic nods, dislodging his mustache entirely. Dido thoughtfully picked it up from among the rushes and handed it to him.
    Their carriage, having turned eastward and passed the Tower of London, now plunged into a maze of narrow streets that lay close to the docks—winding, slippery streets, their cobbles littered with orange peel, fishheads, and straw.
    Children sailed boats in the filthy gutters, despite the worsening weather; ragged old women picked over dirt heaps, looking for bones or rags or bits of rusty iron; groups
huddled round breakfast stalls, blowing the steam off mugs of coffee; little slattern girls carried baskets of watercresses or shrimps, and shrilly called their wares.
    "Juststopaminnit," croaked Mr. Twite, running all his words together, as the carriage rolled past a corner tavern called the Two Jolly Mermaids; and he tapped on the panel and called out, "Jarvey, jarvey, I say! Morel! Pull up, pull up. I
have
to wet my whistle."
    "His excellency gave me no instructions about stopping," replied the driver.
    His excellency? thought Dido. Who the pize can his excellency be, when he's at home?
    "His excellency don't want a cove to die of thirst," retorted Mr. Twite, hastily ramming his mustache back into place. "You stop here, and you can have a mug of organ grinder's oil for yourself."
    "Oh, very well; tol-lol."
    The two men dismounted, the driver giving the reins into the hand of a boy who was pushing a wheeled coffee stall along the road, presumably from its night quarters to its daytime position.
    "Here, you! Mind these for a couple o' minutes and I'll give you half a jim."
    Dido made to follow her father, but he checked her.
    "You'd best not come in, my