# The Book of Betty Barber/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X
THE COURT OF THE PANJANDRUM
“Order, order, order!” called the Young Man, Father William’s son.
And with much arranging of tails, for many of them were animals, and minding of toes, they all settled in their places, and stared very hard at Lucy, who was sitting close to the hedge all by herself, looking very fierce and determined.
“Silence in the court!” called the Young Man, but not one of them stopped talking for a single minute.
“Look at her,” said the Lobster, “she looks as cross as if she had lost a claw. Why can’t she make up her mind to settle down and stay with us, and be comfortable?”
“She said she would find her way out of Nonsense Land,” said the Walrus, “but she hasn’t done it, and I knew she wouldn’t do it.”
The Grand Panjandrum rose in his seat.
“Know all men by these presents,” shouted the Young Man.
“Where are the presents?” asked the Carpenter, but nobody took any notice of him.
“All right,” said the Pussy Cat, “we know all about that, go on to the next part. Call Anthony Rowley.”
So the Young Man looked at the Grand Panjandrum, the Grand Panjandrum nodded, and the Young Man called at the top of his voice:
​ “Anthony Rowley, appear before the Court of the Grand Panjandrum!”
“What’s A. Rowley got to do with it?” asked the Carpenter.
“Here he comes, with his three imps,” whispered Mr. Snip to the Fraction, as they peeped through the hedge. “Lucy persuaded him to come.”
Anthony himself looked rather sad and depressed; he sighed, and said “Heigho!” But Rowley-Powley, Gammon, and Spinach were three of the liveliest imps you ever saw. Anthony Rowley bowed to the Grand Panjandrum, his three imps only set faces.
“Go on, tell all you know, and don’t ‘Heigho’ more than you can help,” whispered the Young Man.
“Heigho,” sighed Anthony Rowley. “Life is a tragedy, and I, poor, miserable creature that I am, know only too well the discomfort of uncongenial surroundings.”
“Spell it,” said the Young Man.
“Do they bite?” asked the Carpenter.
“What’s the gentleman talking about?” asked the Pussy Cat.
Lucy jumped to her feet.
“I know what he means,” she said, “he means it is very miserable to be with people you don’t want to be with, and I quite agree with him.”
“Order! Order! Order!” called the Young Man, looking at the Grand Panjandrum’s little button, which was bobbing up and down faster and faster every minute, a sure sign that he was getting angry.
Lucy sat down suddenly. Someone from behind pulled her dress hard, and she was too much astonished to object.
Anthony Rowley bowed once more, and began again. “I know myself,” he said, “the great discomfort of uncongenial surroundings.”
“He is calling us names,” whispered Rowley-Powley to Gammon and Spinach.
​“And therefore I can entirely understand that a comely maiden of small stature, who desires to proceed with the serious business of life in peaceful repose,” continued Anthony Rowley, “may find it disturbing to be compelled to remain in idleness in a land given up to mirth and merriment.”
Lucy jumped up to her feet quickly, but once more sat down very suddenly.
“Do you wish to say anything further?” asked the Young Man, watching the Grand Panjandrum’s button rather anxiously.
“Heigho!” sighed Anthony Rowley.
“Then now it is our turn,” cried Rowley-Powley, and before the Young Man could even call “Order in the court,” Rowley-Powley had jumped over Gammon’s back, and Gammon over Spinach’s, Then they all three rushed at Anthony Rowley, two of them seized his arms, the other picked up his legs, and sweeping him off his feet, they carried him away out of the court.
“Heigho!” said Anthony Rowley.
“Dear me!” said the Owl. “Uncongenial surroundings seem to be exceedingly unpleasant.”
The Grand Panjandrum’s button was bob, bob, bobbing, up and down, up and down, it looked as if it would bob itself off.
“Lucy, Lucy, appear before the Court of the Grand Panjandrum,” shouted the Young Man.
Lucy jumped up quickly, and tried to move forward, only to find that she was a prisoner, her dress seemed somehow caught fast in the hedge.
“Stay where you are,” said the Young Man, “and answer the Pussy Cat’s questions quietly and quickly.”
“How many verses have you?” asked the Pussy Cat.
“Six,” said Lucy, “and I won’t cut one out.”
“Say the third,” said the Pussy Cat.
Lucy began to think, began to speak, stopped, looked puzzled, and frowned.
“Is it sense or nonsense?” asked the Young Man.
​“It is sense,” said Lucy; “it is about———” And then once more she stopped to think.
“Well, we can’t decide if it’s sense or nonsense, if she won’t say it,” said the Lobster.
“I expect it is nonsense,” said the Clangle-Wangle.
“She told me something about rooks sewing as long as their eyes could see,” said the Walrus.
But at that moment from the other side of the hedge came the sound of horses neighing, of oxen lowing, and of sheep bleating.
“Of course,” said Lucy, and she began to smile. “The third verse, I believe you said,” and she felt so happy she nodded at the Grand Panjandrum. “My third verse begins—
“The horses neighed and the oxen lowed, The sheep’s bleat, bleat came o’er the road——”
Before she could say another word every creature in the court began to shout at her.
“Throw her out,” said the Walrus.
“We don’t want her here,” shouted the Clangle-Wangle.
“She knows what she’s talking about! Absurd!” cried the Lobster.
“Catch who catch can!” shouted the Grand Panjandrum, speaking at last, his little button bobbing wildly up and down, backwards and forwards.
Every creature rose.
“Form lines!” shouted the Young Man.
“Slay the Jabberwock,” shouted a voice.
Lucy, frightened out of her wits, tugged at her dress. The creatures were preparing to make a rush at her, and the line was so long, she knew she would never get through it.
“Who is the Jabberwock?” asked the Carpenter.
“Lucy, Lucy, the impostor!” shouted all the creatures. “Lucy’s a sham!”
Lucy shut her eyes, expecting every minute to feel the Lobster bite her, the Pussy Cat scratch her, something dreadful to happen.
“SHE FOUND HERSELF DRAGGED BACKWARDS RIGHT THROUGH THE HEDGE.”
​Instead, she felt several tugs and pulls from behind, and she found herself dragged backwards right through the hedge, and rolled gently on to the ground.
She could still hear the angry voices on the other side of the hedge, but she could also hear a voice she knew quite well, very close to her, saying—
“Now then, sharp’s the word. Fill the gap up before they find out where she’s gone.”
She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and stared in wonder.
Her old friend Thirteen-fourteenths was working hard, stuffing straw, grass, branches, rubbish of all kinds into the hedge, to fill up the hole she had been pulled through; and standing round him, helping, were her own animals, the horses holding branches in their mouths, the sheep fetching grass, the rooks carrying bits of all kinds, all helping as hard as they could.
“We’re so glad to see you,” whispered the Violets, curtseying, and the tall pink Foxglove made his very best bow.
Lucy felt almost inclined to cry. They were all helping her, glad to see her, and she had been thinking she was tired of them, she had been wishing to leave some of them out.
“Dear friends,” she said.
“There,” whispered Thirteen-fourteenths, “now come up the the road. We’ll get safely to the cross-roads once more, and then we can talk comfortably. Do you hear them?”
There were still shouts coming from the other side of the hedge, not angry shouts, but shouts of wonder, surprise, and bewilderment, “Where is she? Where has she gone? Where’s Lucy?”
“Come,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “quickly and quietly.”
And once more the party crept back along the road, scarcely making a sound, not speaking a word.
When they reached the sign-post Lucy sank down beside it. She wanted to thank them all, but she was very tired, and the procession did not wait to be thanked. Mr. Snip bowed, the animals each in their own way said “Farewell,” the Violets curtseyed, and ​the basket drawn by the rooks rolled back down the road to Rhyme Land.
Lucy and Thirteen-fourteenths watched them until they were out of sight.
“They will be glad to get home,” said Lucy. “I wish I could go too, but what about the book?”
“Yes,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “the book. Was Father William in the court? I could not see him; but I couldn’t see much through the hole, for Mr. Snip had to work hard at it to make it big enough to get through. I thought it wouldn’t be finished in time, and I’m afraid, as it was, it was rather too small, you must be a bit scratched. I hope you are not much hurt, but really it was hard work, and you didn’t help us.”
“I didn’t know,” said Lucy, “I couldn’t understand it. I thought my dress was caught.”
“Never mind, all’s well that ends well,” said the Fraction. “But about the book? I must find it, you don’t know all the trouble it has caused.”
“And I thought I should prevent mischief by getting it to Nonsense Land,” said Lucy. “I persuaded Father William to go and fetch it from the tree, but what happened to him I don’t know. He never came back to Nonsense Land.”
“If he is not in Nonsense Land this very minute,” said Thirteen-Fourteenths, “I don’t know where he is. I know he came to these cross-roads. Hullo! What’s that noise?”
“Somebody groaning,” said Lucy, “somebody in trouble!” And Lucy rose from the ground, her own tiredness almost forgotten “We must find out what is the matter.”
“Help, help, here I am!” called a voice.
Lucy and Thirteen-fourteenths hurried down the road leading to the tree. They had not far to go. A little way down the road, crawling along slowly and painfully, they found a girl, sighing and groaning. It was Minora!
Lucy and the Fraction helped her to her feet, and between them they managed to get her back to the sign-post.
​ “What happened to you?” said the Fraction.
Minora only groaned. Then she slowly opened her clenched fists, and showed a treasure in each hand—a piece of paper screwed into a tight ball, and a small box, a box of ointment.
“Number thirteen,” said the Fraction, “where did you get it?”
Lucy was examining the paper carefully. ‘Sums on one side,” she said, “and on the other——Minora, Minora, where did you get it? Thirteen-fourteenths, it is a page of the book.”
“All I could get!” groaned Minora.
Thirteen-fourteenths looked at the paper, then at Lucy, then at Minora. Then he folded up the sheet carefully, and put it away at the bottom of his pocket.
“Now, Minora,” said the Fraction, “pull yourself together and tell us about it. Where did you see Father William, and which way did he go?”
Minora sighed, and rubbed her arms and hands and sides.
“I don’t know anything about Father William,” she said, “but I do know an old gentleman who looks as old as old, and who can jump and run, and tumble, and get up again, and never mind it at all, as if he were as young as young.”
Thirteen-fourteenths and Lucy nodded at one another, as much as to say, “That’s Father William.”
Minora went on:
“I saw him sitting reading the book at the foot of this very sign-post,” said Minora, “and I asked him to give it to me. He wouldn’t. Then I tried to persuade him to give it to me. He wouldn’t. I tried to take it from him, and he ran away so fast I could scarcely keep up with him. Then, when at last I caught him, and tried to take it away, we had a regular scuffle, and I should have got it, only I caught my foot, tripped and tumbled over, and found myself in the ditch with this one page.”
“Did he say anything?” asked the Fraction. “Did he tell you why he wanted the book?”
“He never spoke a word until I lay in the ditch, and he was running away,” said Minora, “and then he threw this box back to ​me and shouted, at the top of his voice, ‘I kept my limbs supple by the use of this ointment, one shilling a box.’”
“Father William it was,” said Lucy, “dear Father William.”
“‘Dear Father William’ do you call him?” said Minora indignantly. “If you were as sore and tired and bruised as I am, you wouldn’t say, ‘Dear Father William.’ ‘Dear Father William,’ indeed!”
“You don’t understand, Minora,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “he was taking the book to Lucy. She had asked him to get it, and had told him what a troublesome, mischief-making book it was.
“Which way did he go when he left you?” asked Lucy.
“I don’t know,” said Minora, “I chased him a long way down the road leading to the tree, but when I tumbled I didn’t see which way he went. I shall have to find out, for I promised Queen Harmony to get the book.”
“Then you have been to the Queen,” said Thirteen-fourteenths. “How did you get on? What did she say? Where is Major C?”
“One question at a time,” said Minora.
“There’s someone coming,” cried Lucy, “I can hear the tramp of horses.”
“I can hear bells,” said Minora.
“Who can it be?” asked the Fraction.
The sounds came nearer and nearer. Then down the road dashed a smart sleigh, drawn by six galloping horses, and driven by somebody dressed in bright, bright red.
The sleigh moved so quickly that the three watching had no time to do anything but to stare in wonder.
“Who was it?” said Lucy.
“Was there anything inside?” asked Thirteen-fourteenths.
“Something red,” said Minora.
“Did you ever see anyone drive so quickly?” said all three at the same moment.
“It came from Paint Land, and went down the road to the tree,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, who had been examining the sign-post, ​“and there’s someone coming down the road now. Why, it’s Half-term!”
“Hurrah, he’ll tell us all about it,” said Minora, “he’s a capital chap.”
“But we mustn’t all stop talking here, or we shall never get that book,” said Thirteen-fourteenths.
“Hullo! Here we are again,” shouted Half-term.
And at that moment there was a shout from Minora of “There he is! There he is! Catch him! Catch him!”
She was pointing down the road leading to Nonsense Land. Coming down the road was Father William himself!