Part III Chapter 2 Doctor Dolittle and the Green Canary by Hugh Lofting
The Green Parrot Has a Clue
When John Dolittle got back to the inn he put Pippinella back in the small travelling cage he had made for her.
'There's plenty of seed and fresh water, I believe,' he said. 'You must be very hungry.'
'No, Doctor,' said the canary. 'I'm too discouraged to eat.'
'You mustn't feel that way,' said the Doctor. 'We've only begun to look for your friend. I feel sure he'll turn up. Have some food—and rest awhile. I'm going out to ask around the town whether a stranger has been seen lately. Jip, you stay here to keep Pippinella company. Try to cheer her up while I'm gone.'
Jip wagged his tail and said he would.
At a corner of a long street of stately old–fashioned mansions the Doctor paused a moment, looking upwards at a curious lamp–post which stood close to one of the houses. Two fine shady trees spread their branches overhead. Outside the corner window of the house a mirror was fastened on a bracket. A plump, white–haired lady sat knitting at the window, and the Doctor noticed that she was looking at him in the mirror. Something about the spot struck John Dolittle as familiar. And while he paused an old lame man came along, put a ladder against the lamp–post and climbed up to clean the lamp.
A smile of recognition suddenly spread over the Doctor's face.
'Aunt Rosie's house!' he whispered. 'Of course, I wonder if she's heard anything of the window–cleaner. There she is, still knitting, still watching the neighbours pass. I'll go and call on her.'
Aunt Rosie, while knitting at her window, had noticed a small, round man pause at the corner of the street.
'Hah! A stranger!' she muttered, dropping a stitch. 'Distinguished looking man. A scientist or a barrister—possibly a diplomat. I wonder what house he's bound for. Doesn't look like a relative of anyone in this street. Goodness gracious, I believe he's coming here! Yes, he's walking up my steps. Well, did you ever! Emily, Emily!'
A maid, neatly dressed with white cap and apron, entered from the next room in answer to her mistress's cry.
'Emily,' said Aunt Rosie. 'There's a caller at the door—a gentleman caller. I'm not dressed or anything. Get me my cashmere shawl quickly. It's on the top of my bureau. And take this old woollen one away. There's the bell. Hurry! I've no idea who its is, but it looks like someone very important. He's got a black bag. Come from out of town, that's clear. Are the tea things ready? Answer the door, girl. Don't stand there like a dummy! No, get the shawl first. And don't forget the buttered toast. Hurry, I tell you! Here, come back. Put this old woollen thing out of sight.'
In a great state of flutter and excitement Aunt Rosie threw off the white knitted shawl from her shoulders—nearly upsetting a green parrot that perched on a stand at her elbow. The maid, bewildered at receiving half a dozen orders at once, took it from her and left the room. In the hall she set it down upon a chair and went to open the front door.
Without she found a small, round man, with a very kind face.
'Er—er—hum—er—a. Is Aunt Rosie in?' asked the Doctor.
'The maid stared at him in astonishment.
'She is, I know,' the Doctor went on, answering his own question. 'Because I saw her at the window.'
Emily, though still somewhat at sea, finally found her voice.
'Won't you come in, sir?' she murmured.
'Thank you,' said the Doctor, stepping across the threshold.
In the hall on his way to the parlour the Doctor was met by the hostess herself, who came forward, fluttering, to greet him.
'Ah, how do you do, Aunt Rosie?' said he, holding out his hand.
Now 'Aunt Rosie' was a nickname for this lady, used only by herself when talking with her pets and some of her relatives. Imagine, then, her astonishment to be greeted in this fashion by an entire stranger. However, her guest seemed such an amiable, disarming person, she supposed he must be someone whom she ought to know and whose face she had forgotten.
'Good afternoon,' she murmured feebly. 'Emily, take this gentleman's hat and bag.'
Then she led the way into the room where she always sat and the first thing the Doctor noticed was the green parrot perched on the stand.
'Ah!' said he. 'I see you've got a new parrot. The other one was a grey one, wasn't he?'
'Er—yes. Quite so,' muttered Aunt Rosie, feeling surer than ever that this man, if not one of her own relatives greatly altered, must at least be someone she ought to know extremely well. Afraid to offend him by asking him his name, she proceeded to potter around with the tea things while she watched the doctor out of the corner of her eye and sought wildly to remember who he was.
Before the Doctor had a chance to explain the object of his visit he was offered, to his great delight, a cup of tea by his fluttering hostess.
'I hope you will pardon my dropping in unexpectedly like this,' he began, taking the teacup from her.
'Oh, don't mention it,' said she, returning to the tray. 'Let me see, I've forgotten whether you take sugar?'
'Two lumps, please,' said the Doctor.
'Yes, of course,' murmured Aunt Rosie.
'Well, now,' said John Dolittle, 'I wanted to ask you about your window–cleaner. You remember the odd fellow that you used to employ, the one you gave the canary to?'
'Oh, perfectly,' the hostess answered, still cudgelling her brains for the name of this man who apparently knew her private affairs so well. 'A quite extraordinary individual—most peculiar.'
'Have you seen him recently?' asked the Doctor. 'I mean since you gave up having your windows done regularly by him—that was somewhat over a year ago, wasn't it?'
'Yes,' said Aunt Rosie, 'I have.'
For the quiet old lady of the sleepy cathedral town that odd character, the window–cleaner, had always held the spice of mystery. Many a time she had tried by questioning him and inquiring among the neighbours to find out more about him. But she had met with nothing but baffling failure. The object of the Doctor's visit, therefore, threw Aunt Rosie into a greater state of excitement than ever. She stopped rattling the teacups and leaned forward in her chair as though about to impart some terrible secret.
'I had not seen that man,' she whispered, 'for fifteen months. I supposed that he had left the town, and I'm quite certain that he had, for several of my neighbours used to employ him, and if he had been working in the town I would surely have seen him. Well, then, one day, as I was feeding the parrot, I saw him come up the steps. I noticed at a glance that he was greatly changed, much thinner—he used to be quite plump, you know. And when the maid let him in, he asked for work. I didn't really need him to do the windows, because I have them done by the maids now. But he looked so down–at–heel and poverty–stricken that I hadn't the heart to say no. So I told him to do all the windows on the top floor. On the way upstairs he suddenly swayed weakly against the wall. I guessed at once what was the matter. I whispered to the maid to take him to the kitchen and give him a good meal. And do you know, the poor man was actually starving. The cook told me he ate nearly everything in the larder. Then I questioned him while he was at work, to see if I could find out what had befallen him. But he would tell me hardly anything. Just murmured something above have run into bad luck.'
As Aunt Rosie finished her long speech the green parrot on the stand moved restlessly, jingling the chain about his leg.
'And did you, madam,' asked the Doctor, 'see him gain after that?'
'Only once,' said the old lady, handing her guest the buttered toast. 'Seeing what sad straits he was in, I told him I wanted the rest of the windows done the following day. He came back early on the morrow—very early—and the maids told me they had seen him hanging around the house in the small hours. I believe he never went to bed at all; perhaps he had no place to go, but just waited through the night to do the rest of his work the following day. When all the windows were done and there was nothing further to keep him I asked him, as I paid him his money, whether he intended staying in the town for some time. He glanced at me suspiciously, as though I were trying to incriminate him, and then said no, he was only remaining long enough to earn his coach fare to go on farther.'
'Did he say where he was going?' the Doctor asked.
'No,' said the old lady. 'But I'm pretty sure he left the town that night. Because he finished his work here in the forenoon, and I never saw him again.'
At this moment Emily, the maid, entered and whispered something in her mistress's ear.
'Excuse me,' said Aunt Rosie, rising. 'I have to see the butcher about his bill. I'll be back in a moment.'
And she left the room, accompanied by the maid.
John Dolittle put down his teacup and leaned back in his chair, staring in a puzzled manner at the ceiling.
'Confound the luck!' he said aloud. 'It looks as though the trail leads no farther. For heaven only knows where he went when he left the town.'
Suddenly the Doctor heard a rattle behind him. Thinking it was perhaps his host returning he sprang to his feet politely and turned about. But he found that he was still alone, except for the green parrot, whom he had forgotten. That wise–looking bird now seemed very wide awake. He stepped gravely to the end of his short perch and craned his neck out towards the Doctor.
'Oh, how do you do?' said John Dolittle in parrot language. 'You had been so quiet behind me there I had forgotten all about you. I suppose you can't help me in this problem?'
The parrot glanced over his shoulder at the door still ajar and listened a moment. Then he motioned with his head to the Doctor to come a little nearer. John Dolittle at once stepped up to his stand.
'He went to London, Doctor,' the parrot whispered. 'You know, as the old lady told you, he used to mutter a lot—talk aloud to himself—but only when there were no people about. While he was doing the window of this room, standing on the sill outside, with the window half open, he looked in and saw me on my perch here. Seemed sort of mesmerized at first. Then he laughed kind of childish–like and went on polishing the window. There was no one in the room but me. "Good old Pip," he kept saying. "There you are, still, sitting in the window. Watching me polish up the glass. So you came back to the old lady, did you, Pip? Well, she's a good sort. She'll take better care of you than I did. Poor old Pip! But you're looking well—you've grown bigger. Shan't see you again after today—not for a long time. I'm just making enough money to get after them, Pip. Curse them! Curse them! I'm just making enough money to buy a coach ride. Then I'm off. I know where they've gone, Pip. They've gone to London. And I'm going after them—tonight!"'
As the green parrot finished speaking the Doctor heard Aunt Rosie's footsteps in the distance, coming up the kitchen stairs.
'Listen,' he whispered quickly, 'Did you get any idea of where he was going in London—any names of people he meant to see, eh?'
'No,' said the parrot, 'nothing more. I don't think he had a very clear idea himself. He seemed very vague and hazy. Tell me, Doctor, how is Polynesia getting on?'
'Oh, did you know my Polynesia?' asked John Dolittle.
'Why, certainly!' said the parrot. 'She was a distant relative of mine. I heard that she was living at your house in Puddleby.
'I left Polynesia in Africa,' sighed the Doctor. 'Last time I was there. I have missed her terribly.'
'She's lucky,' said the parrot. 'She always was a lucky bird, was Polynesia. Look out, here's the old lady coming back!'
When Aunt Rosie re–entered the room she found her caller scratching the parrot's head.
'I'm sorry to have been so long,' she said. 'But you know what these tradesmen are. That dreadful man insisted hat I had a pound of steak last Tuesday, when that is my meatless day. I haven't eaten meat on a Tuesday for three years—not since Doctor Matthews put me on a diet. Then he discovers that he sent the steak to somebody else in the street—some one who really had ordered it—and he had charged it to me by mitake.'
'Very trying,' said the Doctor. 'Very trying.'
Aunt Rosie now settled down again to her tea, hoping to find out from her caller something of the private history of her mysterious window–cleaner. But before she had a chance to put a single question the Doctor began asking questions himself.
'Perhaps your maid—the one who opened the door for me—could remember something that would help me find the window–cleaner,' said the Doctor.
'Oh, Emily!' said Aunt Rosie, wrinkling up her nose. 'She never notices really important things. But we'll ask her anyway.'
Then Emily was summoned and questioned by her mistress. She said all she knew was that he hadn't done a very good job on the windows the last time he'd washed them. As she was retiring the front door bell rang.
'Pardon me,' said Aunt Rosie, rising. 'This is my at–home day. Some friends drop in regularly and bring their needle–work with them.'
'Oh—er,' said the Doctor, getting up out of his chair. 'I think I ought to be going—really.'
'Oh, no, don't run away,' said Aunt Rosie. 'I'll just see who it is. I'll be back in a moment.'
And before the Doctor had a chance to protest his hostess had left the room again and closed the door behind her.
In the hall Aunt Rosie greeted a sour–faced lady ho had just been admitted by the maid.
'My dear,' she said, fluttering forward, 'I'm so glad you've come. Listen: there's a man in the parlour whom I can't make out at all. He seems to know all about me and my private affairs. And I suppose it's someone whom I ought to know extremely well. Perhaps you can help me. If you recognize him, whisper his name to me when he's not looking, will you?'
'Is that his?' asked the sour–faced lady, sternly pointing to the Doctor's high hat hanging on the stand in the hall.
'Yes,' said Aunt Rosie.
'Then I know already,' said the other.
Now, as soon as Aunt Rosie had left the parlour the Doctor was summoned by a sharp 'Pst!' from the corner of the room. He slipped across to the parrot's side and leaned down to listen.
'It's your sister Sarah,' whispered the bird. 'She's always the first to arrive at these sewing circles. They're all a dreadful lot of old gossips. But she's the worst of them all. A sparrow told me that she was your sister.'
'Good heavens!' said the Doctor. 'Sarah! How can I get out of here, I wonder?'
'Push the window up and drop down into the street.' said the parrot.
'But my hat and bag are in the hall,' whispered the Doctor. 'I can't go without them. Oh, Lord! And she'll start in about the circus again. I suppose, as soon as she meets me.'
'Listen,' whispered the parrot. 'You see that other door over there? That leads around through the pantry. Go through it and wait just on the other side. As soon as they come in here and the hall is clear I'll give a loud squawk. Then hurry along the passage and it will bring you out into the hall. Take your hat and bag and let yourself out of the front door. Hurry up! I hear them coming.'
The Doctor only just closed the door behind him as Sarah and Aunt Rosie entered the room. He waited a moment in the narrow dark passage till a hearty screech from the parrot told him that the coast was clear. Then he groped his way along till he found the door at the end, passed into the hall, grabbed his hat and bag and let himself out into the street.
'Dear me!' he muttered as he hurried around the corner and set off towards the inn. 'A lucky escape, a merciful escape! I don't know what poor Aunt Rosie will think of me—running off like that—after she had given me a cup of tea and everything. Good tea it was, too … Oh, well, I'll write her a letter and tell her I was afraid I'd miss the coach. Fancy that old fellow being a relative of Polynesia's—good old Polynesia! I wonder how she's getting on. What a small world it is, to be sure. Well, well! I haven't found out an awful lot about the window–cleaner. Still, it's a good deal to know that he's in London. And the search lies in our direction, too. It's an awfully big city, though. But you can't tell. I have a feeling that we'll find him.'