MISTER MUDDLE

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 412, 21 July 1928, Page 27

MISTER MUDDLE

It was a bright, sunshiny morning. . and all the flowers in the park were fresh with dew. They grew in orderly rows between green borders of grass, and not a petal was out of place. The trees were all a certain distance apart: not a leaf lay on the swept paths: even j the birds had newly-preened feathers, j Into this very tidy place stepped a queer person. lie was little and fat, and most curiously dressed. His hat had been hurriedly set on his head, back to front; his coat was inside out: his tie hung down between his shoulders; and the toes of his shoes pointed the wrong way. Added to this, he | w as holding his walking stick at the j ferrule end, and prodding the grass j [ with the silver-mounted crook. Now, as he entered the park, a | strange thing happened. The flowers began swaying, and tying their stems j together; the trees tossed in a sudden j breeze, and shed a number of their very best leaves; scraps of paper appealed on the paths; the birds chatted and ruffled their plumage; and, in a moment, that orderly place had become a scene of confusion. “Dear, oh, cfear,” muttered the little fat man, “nothing seems right. Everywhere I go, desolation follows in my wake.. I wish my name would become Brown or Robinson. Then perhaps everything would come right. Now, where did 1 put my handkerchief? Ah, here it is, as usual, in the crown of my hat. And where are my spectacles? Oh dear, oh dear.” “They are on your nose,” I ventured in a small, faint voice, as he paused to look at me. , “Thank you,” he answered; “I am much obliged, although of course I might have known. lam very pleased to make your acquaintance. How untidy everything is this morning.” “A sudden change seems to have come over the park,” I answered, at which, ho sighed dismally. “There, there, it is always the way. Perhaps you will understand the reason when you learn my name. Now, where did I put my card case?” and he fumbled hurriedly in every pocket. “What is that peeping over the rim of your left shoe?” I asked. “Which is my left shoe?” he queried. “Ah, it is the one on the right foot, of course. Well, well, here it is.” In my hand he placed a card, which read: “Mr. Muddle. Usually out, but knock when you enter.” “But what a strange card,” I murmured, completely mystified. “Think it over,” he said sadly, and passed on. And, as he left the park, order was suddenly restored. The flowers stood up straight on their stems, the leaves and scraps of paper disappeared by magic, and every bird began preening its feathers. There was nothing to tell of the visit of that litte fat, untidy man, but -the card he had left behind him: “Mr. Muddle. Usually out, but knock when you enter.” W.S.T.