“N.S.O.M.N.”
“Quite. And you haven’t a hope of succeeding, in my opinion. Never mind what the man thinks of such an idea, I can tell you who won’t stand for it, and that’s HRH.”
“HRH?”
“Her Royal Highness over there—Western Princess of Llanllowell.”
“Is that Megan’s real name?”
“Oh, yes. Registered at the Kennel Club, ten champions in her pedigree, all that nonsense. It’s enough to make a cat laugh,” said Clarence, and he stood up and walked out onto the lawn toward the dog, Ace following.
“Megan,” Clarence said when he reached her, “this is Ace. Ace, Megan.” And he sauntered off, waving his tail.
Ace stood smartly at attention in front of the corgi, his trotters neatly together. Close up, he could see that she was not merely brownish but a fine red-gold color with a snow-white chest.
Ears pricked, head raised, she favored him with an imperious stare. From her expression you would have thought there was a bad smell under her nose.
Ace cleared his throat, and with downcast eyes he said, “Your servant, ma’am.”
A Pig and a Dog
THE CORGI DID not reply.
Glancing up, Ace thought that the look in her eyes had softened a little. Was that a slight wag of her stumpy tail? Might as well go the whole hog, he thought.
“Please accept my apologies, ma’am,” he said, “for interrupting your walk. May it please Your Majesty.”
Now the stump was really wagging.
“There’s a nice-mannered pig!” said Megan. “Sick and tired it is we are of being called plain Megan by that cat. Who was it told you that we are of the blood royal?”
“A friend, ma’am. Nanny the goat.”
“The goat!” said Megan scornfully. “A creature of no breeding whatsoever. Common as muck. Surprised it is we are that she should even be aware of our rank. What did she tell you about us?”
Ace had never heard of the royal “we,” but he was becoming used to the way the dog spoke and to her unfamiliar lilting accent, so different from Ted Tubbs’s broad tones.
“She said you had a very good pedigree, ma’am,” he said. “Though I don’t quite know what that means, I’m afraid.”
“We don’t imagine for one moment that you would,” said Megan.
She stared pointedly at the mark on Ace’s left side.
“You’re not pure bred, that’s obvious, isn’t it?” she said.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Ace.
“Don’t know anything about your ancestors, we presume?”
“No. Though I’m told my great-grandfather was a sheep pig.”
“Well, there you are, see. Doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“But please,” said Ace, “won’t you tell me all about your family, ma’am? If you would be so gracious, Your Majesty.”
“There’s ignorant you are,” said Megan. “There’s only one person in the whole country who is properly addressed as Your Majesty, and that is the queen. She is the most important human being in the land, see. Now, the point about our family is not merely to do with pedigree—plenty of dogs have pedigrees a mile long, even if not as distinguished. No, the reason why we are head and shoulders above all the other breeds is this: Corgis are the queen’s dogs. Buckingham Palace is bursting with them, and wherever the queen goes—Windsor, Sandringham, Balmoral—she takes them with her.
“Now, the queen’s children are called Their Royal Highnesses. In fact, she made her eldest son the Prince of Wales—because of her fondness for corgis, no doubt. And so her own dogs are styled princes and princesses every one. Now, it so happens, see, that we personally are directly related to the royal corgis. Western Princess of Llanllowell, that is our proper title.”
“So should I call you Your Royal Highness?” said Ace.
“No, no, that’s for humans. Corgis were originally bred as cattle dogs, to nip at their heels. Now, a tall dog might get a good kick in the face doing that, but our breed, see, has nice short legs to keep out of trouble. So it’s plain how you should address me, isn’t it, now?”
“How?”
“ ‘Your Royal Lowness,’ ” said Megan. “But you need only do so at the start of a conversation. From then on, ‘ma’am’ will suffice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ace.
“Now,” said Megan, “the audience is at an end. You may attend on us tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ace.
He turned to go, but Megan said sharply, “Backwards, look you.”
“Sorry?”
“It is customary to withdraw backwards when leaving the presence of royalty.”
—
Ace could not wait to tell Nanny. He raced back to the box stall and bashed so loudly on the door with his hard little snout that a puzzled Ted Tubbs came hurrying to let him in.
The farmer leaned on the half-door and looked at the pig.
“What’s the matter, my boy?” he asked. “Did something frighten you?” But receiving only a single grunt in reply, he went off again about his business.
“What was he saying?” asked Nanny.
“He was asking if something frightened me. But I was just in a hurry to come in because I’ve just met Megan and I’m bursting to tell you all about it,” said Ace, and he did.
“Your Royal Lowness indeed!” said Nanny. “What a fraud! She really gets my goat with all her airs and graces. Are you going to be able to put up with all that stuff, Ace?”
“Oh, yes, it’s quite amusing, really. I didn’t realize a snob would be so funny.”
“I suppose she said that you were common?”
“Oh, yes, and you too.”
Nanny gave a snort.
“D’you think,” said Ace, “that Megan is really related to the queen’s corgis?”
“Shouldn’t think so for a moment. What she has never realized is that it doesn’t matter who you are. It’s what you are that counts in this life, and you’re worth ten of that silly fat thing. Snobbery apart, she’s like all dogs—thinks she can understand what the man says. But like all dogs, she can’t. Just a few commands that she’s learned to obey. That’s about as far as it goes. Now you, you can understand his every word. Did you tell Megan that?”
“No.”
There was a scratch of claws on the outside of the half-door, and Clarence appeared over the top of it.
“She wouldn’t believe you if you did,” he said.
“Oh, you heard that, did you?” said Nanny.
“Listening in on other people’s conversations!” said Ace. “You shouldn’t do that, Clarence.”
“Why not?”
“It’s rude. Didn’t your mother tell you?”
Clarence did not answer this. Like all cats, he had the knack of making others feel uncomfortable by simply not reacting, by appearing, that is, to be taking no notice of what has been said. He jumped up onto the crib and began to wash his face, so that now it was Ace who felt that he had been rude. He tried to make amends by making conversation.
“Why wouldn’t Megan believe me, Clarence?” he asked.
Clarence finished his washing before replying.
Then he said, “Because she only believes what she wants to believe. Besides, if you succeed in your plan to get into the house, you could have the upper hand. You’ll be able to understand the man. She won’t. It could be amusing.”
“Now, Clarence,” said Nanny. “I know what you’re thinking. You’d like to take that dog down a peg or two, wouldn’t you?”
Once again Clarence did not answer. He lay down and licked his black nose with his pink tongue. Then he wrapped his white tail around him, shut his yellow eye, shut his green eye, and went to sleep.
—
The next morning, when Farmer Tubbs came out of the house after breakfast, he saw a strange sight. Sitting close together in the middle of the lawn were his dog, his cat, and the Ace of Clubs. Anyone would think, he said to himself, that all t
hree of them were household pets.
“You’ll have to watch out, Megan, and you, Clarence,” he said. “Next thing you know, you won’t be the only ones sitting in comfy chairs in the nice warm farmhouse, watching me play cards. Ace will be in there, too.” And he walked away chuckling to himself at such a ridiculous idea.
A Pig in the House
THE FARMER’S WORDS, Ace could see, were received quite differently by the other two animals. Clarence took absolutely no notice but stared absently into the distance. Megan looked up at the man, her ears flattened, and wagged her whole rump in pleasure at the sound of his voice.
Pity she can’t understand what he said, thought Ace. She might ask me in. Ted’s left the door wide open, too. How am I going to wangle an invitation? He caught Clarence’s eye (the yellow one, as it happened), and once again that telepathic sense that humans seldom have but animals so often possess came into play.
“He’s left the door open,” said Clarence. “Care to have a look around the house, Ace?”
“Oh, could I?” said Ace. Clarence had never before called him by name, and he warmed to the white cat.
“You most certainly could not!” barked Megan sharply. “A pig in the house! That’s ridiculous! We never heard of such a thing!”
“I just thought you might like to show Ace your trophies, Megan,” said Clarence smoothly.
The corgi’s expression softened.
“Trophies?” said Ace. “What are they?”
“Awards that Megan won at dog shows,” said Clarence. “Prize cards, rosettes, that sort of thing.”
“And a cup,” said Megan. “You’re forgetting that we won a cup in our younger days.”
“So you did,” said Clarence. “A little silver cup. Well, silvery-colored, anyway. Ace would be ever so interested, wouldn’t you, Ace?”
“Oh, yes, yes, I would! You must be very proud, ma’am, to have won those things.”
“We hardly expected to lose,” said Megan, and she got up and waddled off into the farmhouse.
“Come on,” said Clarence. “That’s tickled her vanity. I knew it would. Follow me, now, and don’t speak till you’re spoken to.”
Inside he led the way down a passage and into the living room. On either side of the fireplace was an armchair, and in the smaller one the Western Princess of Llanllowell already lay in regal state.
On the wall beside this chair were pinned three cards, colored red, with black writing on them, and tacked to each card was a blue rosette. On the mantel above the fireplace stood, among other knickknacks, a very small cup of a size suitable to contain a sparrow’s egg.
Megan glanced up at these objects.
“The royal collection,” she said offhandedly. “Beautiful, isn’t it, now?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” said Ace in a reverent tone. “It is an honor to see them.”
See them he could, but read what was written on them he could not. The inscription on the three prize cards was in fact identical except for the dates, which spanned three successive years:
VILLAGE FAIR
NOVELTY DOG SHOW
CLASS 10 FATTEST DOG
FIRST PRIZE
On the little cup was engraved:
DOG DERBY
ANY VARIETY 200-YARD RACE
BOOBY PRIZE
“Impressive, aren’t they?” said Clarence. He winked his green eye at Ace.
“Oh, yes!” breathed Ace.
“Gracious of Her Lowness to compete, don’t you think?” said Clarence, shutting his yellow eye.
“Royalty has its obligations, look you,” said Megan modestly. “Noblesse oblige.”
She settled herself more comfortably in the armchair.
“The cat will take you on a conducted tour,” she said. “We hope your feet are clean.”
“Oh, it was a scream, Nanny!” said Ace that evening back in the box stall.
“Clarence just went out of the room, of course, but I could see Megan watching me out of the corner of her eye, so I walked out backward.
“ ‘What does “noblesse oblige” mean, Clarence?’ I said when I caught up to him.
“ ‘It’s foreign talk,’ he said.
“ ‘What sort?’ I said.
“ ‘Double Dutch,’ he said.
“So I wasn’t any the wiser.”
“Never mind,” said Nanny. “What happened next?”
“Clarence showed me all over the house.”
“Upstairs too?”
“Yes, though that was difficult. The stairs are steep. Megan can’t get up them at all, Clarence says—she’s too stout. I saw the bedrooms, and a room with a big white trough in it. That’s where Ted washes himself, and there was one of those white chairs with a hole in the middle of it, too. There was another one in a very small room downstairs as well.”
“You didn’t…do anything, I hope?” said Nanny.
“Do anything?”
“Yes, you know…”
“Oh, no,” said Ace. “I went out on the lawn. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re finished,’ Clarence said to me. He’s nice when you get to know him, Clarence is, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Nanny. “He lives in the kitchen, I know. He has a bed right by the oven. He’s often told me how cozy it is there on winter nights.”
“That’s right,” said Ace. “I saw some other downstairs rooms, but the kitchen’s lovely, full of nice food smells. Still I think the living room’s the place for me, even though it means putting up with Her Lowness.”
“Why?”
“Because in the living room Ted Tubbs has got the most amazing thing, Nanny. You just can’t imagine what an extraordinary thing it is.”
“What is?”
“The magic box!”
“Magic box?” said Nanny. “What are you talking about, Ace?”
“Well,” said Ace, “when we’d finished the tour of the house, we went back into the living room and Megan asked Clarence if he’d showed me everything, and Clarence said yes and Megan said ‘Upstairs too?’ And then Clarence stared at her in that way he has and said ‘Oh, yes, Your Lowness, the stairs weren’t too high for Ace,’ and Megan said ‘We are not amused,’ and Clarence said ‘A cat may look at a princess’ and climbed into the other armchair.
“I waited a bit but neither of them said any more. In fact they both went to sleep, so I thought maybe I’d outstayed my welcome. But just as I was going out of the room I saw this thing in the corner. A big box it was, only one side was nearly all glass, like a window. So I walked up to it and looked in this window, but all I could see was myself looking back.”
“That would be your reflection,” said Nanny. “Like you get if you look in a puddle or in the duck pond. Nothing magic about that.”
“No, but wait,” said Ace. “Below this glass window there were some knobs sticking out. So out of curiosity I pushed one of those knobs with my snout, and you wouldn’t believe what I saw then, Nanny!”
“What did you see?”
“Inside that box,” said Ace slowly and impressively, “there was a man talking! He was talking about all kinds of different things, and as well as the man there were loads of different pictures, and the man talked about them, too. Megan and Clarence didn’t take a bit of notice, I suppose because they wouldn’t have understood what the man was saying. But I could, of course, and it was ever so interesting, Nanny, honestly! I tell you I simply couldn’t take my eyes off that magic box!”
—
Thus it was that Farmer Tubbs, his morning’s work finished, came into his living room to find the Ace of Clubs sitting on his heels in front of the television set watching the one o’clock news.
A Pig and the Television
AFTER THAT, LIFE was never really the same again for Farmer Ted Tubbs. All that afternoon he talked to himself in a bemused fashion.
“That pig,” he said, “he were sat there watching the telly! Must have switched it on hisself. Never seed such a extraordinary thing. I co
uldn’t think of nothing to say. In the end I says to him ‘Anything interesting on the news, then, Ace?’ and he gives a couple of grunts, so I didn’t like to turn it off. I goes and has my bit of lunch and when I comes back he’s sat there watching Neighbours. What next, Ted Tubbs, what next?”
So stunned was the farmer by the pig’s actions that the idea of forbidding him to enter the house in the future never crossed his mind, especially because in the days that followed Ace behaved faultlessly. All he did was to watch a great deal of television. He damaged nothing and made no messes anywhere (for Farmer Tubbs had the sense always to leave the door to the garden open: he himself often did not bother to take off his boots when he came in, so a few muddy pig-trotter marks did not signify). And in the afternoon, before the farmer came in after finishing the afternoon milking, the pig would turn off the television with a prod of his snout, leave the house, and make his way back to the door of the box stall. Here, if Farmer Tubbs did not hurry, a loud squeal would tell him that Ace wanted to be let in, fed, and left to spend the night with his friend Nanny the goat.
“Just as well, I suppose,” the farmer said to himself (and to Megan and Clarence, though his reasoning meant nothing to them), “because if he stayed in the house we’d have the telly on all night long. ’Tisn’t that I don’t enjoy some programs, but when there’s rubbish on, I likes to switch off and have a nice game of solitaire. Now if that pig was in nights, he’d be watching the midnight movie and then he’d have the telly on till ’twas time for milking again.”
In point of fact, Ace was becoming very selective in his viewing. He had not been a house pig many days before he found out, first by chance and then by trial and error, that pressing each of the five knobs below the window of the magic box produced a different result. One turned the thing off, and the other four controlled four different channels. Ace of course had no idea that there were such things as different channels, but he soon found that the magic box offered a choice of pictures. His sense of time was good, too, and after a few weeks, his viewing had taken on a definite pattern.
Ace Page 3
