by Hugh Lofting
“He certainly must be,” I said. “I do wish he were home so I could meethim.”
“Well, there’s his house, look,” said the cat’s-meat-man—“that littleone at the bend in the road there—the one high up—like it was sittingon the wall above the street.”
We were now come beyond the edge of the town. And the house thatMatthew pointed out was quite a small one standing by itself. Thereseemed to be a big garden around it; and this garden was much higherthan the road, so you had to go up a flight of steps in the wall beforeyou reached the front gate at the top. I could see that there were manyfine fruit trees in the garden, for their branches hung down over thewall in places. But the wall was so high I could not see anything else.
When we reached the house Matthew went up the steps to the front gateand I followed him. I thought he was going to go into the garden; butthe gate was locked. A dog came running down from the house; and hetook several pieces of meat which the cat’s-meat-man pushed throughthe bars of the gate, and some paper bags full of corn and bran. Inoticed that this dog did not stop to eat the meat, as any ordinarydog would have done, but he took all the things back to the house anddisappeared. He had a curious wide collar round his neck which lookedas though it were made of brass or something. Then we came away.
“The Doctor isn’t back yet,” said Matthew, “or the gate wouldn’t belocked.”
“What were all those things in paper-bags you gave the dog?” I asked.
“Oh, those were provisions,” said Matthew—“things for the animals toeat. The Doctor’s house is simply full of pets. I give the things tothe dog, while the Doctor’s away, and the dog gives them to the otheranimals.”
“And what was that curious collar he was wearing round his neck?”
“That’s a solid gold dog-collar,” said Matthew. “It was given to himwhen he was with the Doctor on one of his voyages long ago. He saved aman’s life.”
“How long has the Doctor had him?” I asked.
“Oh, a long time. Jip’s getting pretty old now. That’s why the Doctordoesn’t take him on his voyages any more. He leaves him behind to takecare of the house. Every Monday and Thursday I bring the food to thegate here and give it him through the bars. He never lets any one comeinside the garden while the Doctor’s away—not even me, though he knowsme well. But you’ll always be able to tell if the Doctor’s back ornot—because if he is, the gate will surely be open.”
So I went off home to my father’s house and put my squirrel to bed inan old wooden box full of straw. And there I nursed him myself and tookcare of him as best I could till the time should come when the Doctorwould return. And every day I went to the little house with the biggarden on the edge of the town and tried the gate to see if it werelocked. Sometimes the dog, Jip, would come down to the gate to meetme. But though he always wagged his tail and seemed glad to see me, henever let me come inside the garden.
_THE THIRD CHAPTER_
THE DOCTOR’S HOME
ONE Monday afternoon towards the end of April my father asked me totake some shoes which he had mended to a house on the other side of thetown. They were for a Colonel Bellowes who was very particular.
I found the house and rang the bell at the front door. The Colonelopened it, stuck out a very red face and said, “Go round to thetradesmen’s entrance—go to the back door.” Then he slammed the doorshut.
I felt inclined to throw the shoes into the middle of his flower-bed.But I thought my father might be angry, so I didn’t. I went roundto the back door, and there the Colonel’s wife met me and took theshoes from me. She looked a timid little woman and had her hands allover flour as though she were making bread. She seemed to be terriblyafraid of her husband whom I could still hear stumping round the housesomewhere, grunting indignantly because I had come to the front door.Then she asked me in a whisper if I would have a bun and a glass ofmilk. And I said, “Yes, please.”
After I had eaten the bun and milk, I thanked the Colonel’s wife andcame away. Then I thought that before I went home I would go and seeif the Doctor had come back yet. I had been to his house once alreadythat morning. But I thought I’d just like to go and take another look.My squirrel wasn’t getting any better and I was beginning to be worriedabout him.
So I turned into the Oxenthorpe Road and started off towards theDoctor’s house. On the way I noticed that the sky was clouding over andthat it looked as though it might rain.
I reached the gate and found it still locked. I felt very discouraged.I had been coming here every day for a week now. The dog, Jip, came tothe gate and wagged his tail as usual, and then sat down and watched meclosely to see that I didn’t get in.
I began to fear that my squirrel would die before the Doctor came back.I turned away sadly, went down the steps on to the road and turnedtowards home again.
I wondered if it were supper-time yet. Of course I had no watch of myown, but I noticed a gentleman coming towards me down the road; andwhen he got nearer I saw it was the Colonel out for a walk. He was allwrapped up in smart overcoats and mufflers and bright-colored gloves.It was not a very cold day but he had so many clothes on he lookedlike a pillow inside a roll of blankets. I asked him if he would pleasetell me the time.
He stopped, grunted and glared down at me—his red face growing redderstill; and when he spoke it sounded like the cork coming out of agingerbeer-bottle.
“Do you imagine for one moment,” he spluttered, “that I am going to getmyself all unbuttoned just to tell a little boy like you _the time_!”And he went stumping down the street, grunting harder than ever.
I stood still a moment looking after him and wondering how old I wouldhave to be, to have him go to the trouble of getting his watch out. Andthen, all of a sudden, the rain came down in torrents.
I have never seen it rain so hard. It got dark, almost like night. Thewind began to blow; the thunder rolled; the lightning flashed, and in amoment the gutters of the road were flowing like a river. There was noplace handy to take shelter, so I put my head down against the drivingwind and started to run towards home.
I hadn’t gone very far when my head bumped into something soft andI sat down suddenly on the pavement. I looked up to see whom I hadrun into. And there in front of me, sitting on the wet pavement likemyself, was a little round man with a very kind face. He wore a shabbyhigh hat and in his hand he had a small black bag.
“I’m very sorry,” I said. “I had my head down and I didn’t see youcoming.”
To my great surprise, instead of getting angry at being knocked down,the little man began to laugh.
“You know this reminds me,” he said, “of a time once when I was inIndia. I ran full tilt into a woman in a thunderstorm. But she wascarrying a pitcher of molasses on her head and I had treacle in my hairfor weeks afterwards—the flies followed me everywhere. I didn’t hurtyou, did I?”
“No,” I said. “I’m all right.”
“It was just as much my fault as it was yours, you know,” said thelittle man. “I had my head down too—but look here, we mustn’t sittalking like this. You must be soaked. I know I am. How far have yougot to go?”
“My home is on the other side of the town,” I said, as we pickedourselves up.
“My Goodness, but that _was_ a wet pavement!” said he. “And I declareit’s coming down worse than ever. Come along to my house and get dried.A storm like this can’t last.”
He took hold of my hand and we started running back down the roadtogether. As we ran I began to wonder who this funny little man couldbe, and where he lived. I was a perfect stranger to him, and yethe was taking me to his own home to get dried. Such a change, afterthe old red-faced Colonel who had refused even to tell me the time!Presently we stopped.
“Here we are,” he said.
I looked up to see where we were and found myself back at the footof the steps leading to the little house with the big garden! My newfriend was already running up the steps and opening the gate with somekeys he took from his pocket.
I suppose after hearing so much about him I had expected some one verytall and strong and marvelous. It was hard to believe that this funnylittle man with the kind smiling face could be really he. Yet here hewas, sure enough, running up the steps and opening the very gate whichI had been watching for so many days!
The dog, Jip, came rushing out and started jumping up on him andbarking with happiness. The rain was splashing down heavier than ever.
“Are you Doctor Dolittle?” I shouted as we sped up the shortgarden-path to the house.
“Yes, I’m Doctor Dolittle,” said he, opening the front door with thesame bunch of keys. “Get in! Don’t bother about wiping your feet. Nevermind the mud. Take it in with you. Get in out of the rain!”
I popped in, he and Jip following. Then he slammed the door to behindus.
The storm had made it dark enough outside; but inside the house,with the door closed, it was as black as night. Then began the mostextraordinary noise that I have ever heard. It sounded like all sortsand kinds of animals and birds calling and squeaking and screechingat the same time. I could hear things trundling down the stairs andhurrying along passages. Somewhere in the dark a duck was quacking,a cock was crowing, a dove was cooing, an owl was hooting, a lambwas bleating and Jip was barking. I felt birds’ wings flutteringand fanning near my face. Things kept bumping into my legs andnearly upsetting me. The whole front hall seemed to be filling upwith animals. The noise, together with the roaring of the rain, wastremendous; and I was beginning to grow a little bit scared when I feltthe Doctor take hold of my arm and shout into my ear.
“Don’t be alarmed. Don’t be frightened. These are just some of my pets.I’ve been away three months and they are glad to see me home again.Stand still where you are till I strike a light. My Gracious, what astorm!—Just listen to that thunder!”
So there I stood in the pitch-black dark, while all kinds of animalswhich I couldn’t see chattered and jostled around me. It was a curiousand a funny feeling. I had often wondered, when I had looked in fromthe front gate, what Doctor Dolittle would be like and what the funnylittle house would have inside it. But I never imagined it would beanything like this. Yet somehow after I had felt the Doctor’s hand uponmy arm I was not frightened, only confused. It all seemed like somequeer dream; and I was beginning to wonder if I was really awake, whenI heard the Doctor speaking again:
“My blessed matches are all wet. They won’t strike. Have you got any?”
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t,” I called back.
“Never mind,” said he. “Perhaps Dab-Dab can raise us a light somewhere.”
Then the Doctor made some funny clicking noises with his tongue and Iheard some one trundle up the stairs again and start moving about inthe rooms above.
Then we waited quite a while without anything happening.
“Will the light be long in coming?” I asked. “Some animal is sitting onmy foot and my toes are going to sleep.”
“No, only a minute,” said the Doctor. “She’ll be back in a minute.”
And just then I saw the first glimmerings of a light around the landingabove. At once all the animals kept quiet.
“And in her right foot she carried a lighted candle!”]
“I thought you lived alone,” I said to the Doctor.
“So I do,” said he. “It is Dab-Dab who is bringing the light.”
I looked up the stairs trying to make out who was coming. I could notsee around the landing but I heard the most curious footstep on theupper flight. It sounded like some one hopping down from one step tothe other, as though he were using only one leg.
As the light came lower, it grew brighter and began to throw strangejumping shadows on the walls.
“Ah—at last!” said the Doctor. “Good old Dab-Dab!”
And then I thought I _really_ must be dreaming. For there, craning herneck round the bend of the landing, hopping down the stairs on one leg,came a spotless white duck. And in her right foot she carried a lightedcandle!
_THE FOURTH CHAPTER_
THE WIFF-WAFF
WHEN at last I could look around me I found that the hall was indeedsimply full of animals. It seemed to me that almost every kind ofcreature from the countryside must be there: a pigeon, a white rat, anowl, a badger, a jackdaw—there was even a small pig, just in from therainy garden, carefully wiping his feet on the mat while the light fromthe candle glistened on his wet pink back.
The Doctor took the candlestick from the duck and turned to me.
“Look here,” he said: “you must get those wet clothes off—by the way,what is your name?”
“Tommy Stubbins,” I said.
“Oh, are you the son of Jacob Stubbins, the shoemaker?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Excellent bootmaker, your father,” said the Doctor. “You see these?”and he held up his right foot to show me the enormous boots he waswearing. “Your father made me those boots four years ago, and I’vebeen wearing them ever since—perfectly wonderful boots—Well now, lookhere, Stubbins. You’ve got to change those wet things—and quick. Waita moment till I get some more candles lit, and then we’ll go upstairsand find some dry clothes. You’ll have to wear an old suit of mine tillwe can get yours dry again by the kitchen-fire.”
So presently when more candles had been lighted round different partsof the house, we went upstairs; and when we had come into a bedroom theDoctor opened a big wardrobe and took out two suits of old clothes.These we put on. Then we carried our wet ones down to the kitchen andstarted a fire in the big chimney. The coat of the Doctor’s which I waswearing was so large for me that I kept treading on my own coat-tailswhile I was helping to fetch the wood up from the cellar. But verysoon we had a huge big fire blazing up the chimney and we hung our wetclothes around on chairs.
“Now let’s cook some supper,” said the Doctor.—“You’ll stay and havesupper with me, Stubbins, of course?”
Already I was beginning to be very fond of this funny little man whocalled me “Stubbins,” instead of “Tommy” or “little lad” (I did sohate to be called “little lad”!) This man seemed to begin right awaytreating me as though I were a grown-up friend of his. And when heasked me to stop and have supper with him I felt terribly proud andhappy. But I suddenly remembered that I had not told my mother that Iwould be out late. So very sadly I answered,
“Thank you very much. I would like to stay, but I am afraid that mymother will begin to worry and wonder where I am if I don’t get back.”
“Oh, but my dear Stubbins,” said the Doctor, throwing another log ofwood on the fire, “your clothes aren’t dry yet. You’ll have to waitfor them, won’t you? By the time they are ready to put on we will havesupper cooked and eaten—Did you see where I put my bag?”
“I think it is still in the hall,” I said. “I’ll go and see.”
I found the bag near the front door. It was made of black leather andlooked very, very old. One of its latches was broken and it was tied upround the middle with a piece of string.
“Thank you,” said the Doctor when I brought it to him.
“Was that bag all the luggage you had for your voyage?” I asked.
“Yes,” said the Doctor, as he undid the piece of string. “I don’tbelieve in a lot of baggage. It’s such a nuisance. Life’s too short tofuss with it. And it isn’t really necessary, you know—Where _did_ I putthose sausages?”
The Doctor was feeling about inside the bag. First he brought out aloaf of new bread. Next came a glass jar with a curious metal top toit. He held this up to the light very carefully before he set it downupon the table; and I could see that there was some strange littlewater-creature swimming about inside. At last the Doctor brought out apound of sausages.
“Now,” he said, “all we want is a frying-pan.”
We went into the scullery and there we found some pots and pans hangingagainst the wall. The Doctor took down t
he frying-pan. It was quiterusty on the inside.
“Dear me, just look at that!” said he. “That’s the worst of being awayso long. The animals are very good and keep the house wonderfully cleanas far as they can. Dab-Dab is a perfect marvel as a housekeeper.But some things of course they can’t manage. Never mind, we’ll soonclean it up. You’ll find some silver-sand down there, under the sink,Stubbins. Just hand it up to me, will you?”
In a few moments we had the pan all shiny and bright and the sausageswere put over the kitchen-fire and a beautiful frying smell went allthrough the house.
While the Doctor was busy at the cooking I went and took another lookat the funny little creature swimming about in the glass jar.
“What is this animal?” I asked.
“Oh that,” said the Doctor, turning round—“that’s a Wiff-Waff. Itsfull name is _hippocampus pippitopitus_. But the natives just callit a Wiff-Waff—on account of the way it waves its tail, swimming,I imagine. That’s what I went on this last voyage for, to get that.You see I’m very busy just now trying to learn the language of theshellfish. They _have_ languages, of that I feel sure. I can talka little shark language and porpoise dialect myself. But what Iparticularly want to learn now is shellfish.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well, you see, some of the shellfish are the oldest kind of animals inthe world that we know of. We find their shells in the rocks—turned tostone—thousands of years old. So I feel quite sure that if I could onlyget to talk their language, I should be able to learn a whole lot aboutwhat the world was like ages and ages and ages ago. You see?”