Part I Chapter 6 Doctor Dolittle's Return by Hugh Lofting
THE SOUND IN THE SKY
Even then, when daylight came, the Cats'meat-Man and I only took short sleeps in our chairs, setting Too-Too on watch with orders to rouse us if anything happened.
About noon Dab-Dab woke us and said breakfast was ready. We were hungry and ate a hearty meal.
"We ought to get some things in from the town, Tommy," said the housekeeper as she waited on us. "The larder is pretty low in provisions."
"All right, Dab-Dab," I said. "Tell me what you need."
"I'm short of milk," she said. "The Doctor always drank a lot of milk. And I'm low on sugar, too. And—let me see—yes, tapioca, macaroni and three loaves of bread. I think that's all."
I made out a list, gave it to Matthew with some money, and asked him to do the shopping for us. The Cats'-meat-Man was very proud of being a friend of John Dolittle's; so, fearing he might be tempted to talk, I reminded him once more as he set out for Puddleby to keep a closed mouth about the great event we were waiting for.
"Don't you worry, Tommy," he said. "I won't talk. But listen, would you mind if I was to tell my wife Theodosia? She was at me last night to tell 'er why I was rushin' off in such an 'urry. She always thinks I'm goin' poachin' when I stays out nights. But she knows 'ow to keep a secret. And, while Dab-Dab is a pretty good cook and housekeeper, we might be glad of 'er 'elp when the Doctor arrives. Theodosia would be right pleased to do anything she can for John Dolittle. And, yer know, women—though they ain't much good at some things—they do know 'ow to make a place ome-like for a welcome. They 'ave ideas—and good ones too—sometimes. Surprisin'."
"Why—er, yes, Matthew," I said. "I see no reason why you shouldn't tell Mrs. Mugg."
Not long after the Cats'-meat-Man had gone, the old lame horse came round to the kitchen door.
"Tommy," said he, "I see the woodshed is nearly empty. Maybe the Doctor will need a fire when he gets down. The nights are still pretty cool. Don't you think we ought to go and gather some wood?"
"Yes," I said. "I think we should. But how is your hoof?"
"Oh," said he, "not too bad. I have to limp a bit. But if you put those two wood baskets on my back I can manage them easy."
So I got an axe and we went off into the small forest that bordered the Doctor's garden at the bottom. Here I chopped enough wood for three or four good fires. I loaded it into the baskets and the old horse carried it up to the shed.
It was about half-past four in the afternoon when Matthew got back. Besides the stores I had sent him for, he brought Theodosia Mugg, his wife. I was glad to see her big motherly figure coming up the garden path. She was a very clever and capable woman, was Theodosia. This she had shown when she travelled with the Doctor in the circus, years ago, and had acted as wardrobe-woman in the famous Canary Opera which John Dolittle had put on in London.
Dab-Dab did not quite care for the idea of having any one share her duties as housekeeper. But she had always liked Theodosia; and very soon she saw that the good woman could get a lot more done in one hour than a duck could in three.
A few minutes after she arrived Mrs. Mugg had all the carpets out on the lawn to be beaten; she had the lace curtains in the wash-tub to be cleaned; the kitchen floor was scrubbed; every dish in the house was spick and span. You never saw a house change so quickly.
"Oh, Master Tommy," said she (I could never understand why I was just plain "Tommy" to Matthew, but always "Master Tommy" to his wife), "ain't it wonderful to think of the Doctor's comin' back? It threw me all of a twitter—the news did, when Matthew told me—Oh, would yer mind chasin' that pig out into the garden? 'E's muddin' up the clean floor."
Gub-Gub, much to his disgust, was asked to leave.
"Yes," she went on, "Matthew told me too what you said about keepin' the Doctor's comin' a secret. Never fear, I don't want to be laughed at. People wouldn't believe you—not if you told 'em one quarter of what's true about the Doctor. Why, when I was workin' with 'im in the circus and 'e put on the Canary Opera, it was plain to every one in London that 'e could talk the languages of all them birds—just as if 'e come of a canary family 'isself. But even then, with it right under their noses, would people believe it? No. 'Talk canary language!' says they. 'Impossible! It's just trainin' tricks—' No, you needn't think I'd speak to any one about the Doctor's bein' in the moon. I don't want to be laughed at. That's the way folks are: tell 'em anything new and they think you're cracked."
Theodosia shook her head sadly and went on dusting the pantry cupboard.
"Yes," I said. "And I fancy that is partly why John Dolittle has kept so much to himself of late years. For one thing, many of the scientific discoveries he has made in natural history are far too extraordinary for people to believe; and for another, he does not want to be bothered with people fussing at him and admiring him and hindering him from working. Why, Jip told me that while he was running the opera in London it took him an hour of each day to sign the autograph albums that were sent him for his signature."
"It was worse than that, Master Tommy," said Theodosia—"sometimes. Indeed, we 'ad to get the 'elp of the police to keep the crowds away when they discovered what 'ouse 'e was livin' in in London—Well, now look 'ere! This won't do, I mustn't stand gossipin'. I want to get this 'ouse finished before 'e comes."
It began to get dark about a quarter-past seven. By that time the animals had all had sleep of some sort, even if it was only a few minutes. They now began to fuss around again, chatting in the garden in twos and threes, determined not to be caught napping at the last moment. I noticed some blackbirds and robins watching this moonlight garden party from the trees. So I sent out Dab-Dab to call the animals in.
When the moon rose at a quarter-past eight, Matthew and I stationed ourselves at one of the bedroom windows. We left this window open.
"You feel sure 'e'll come to-night, Tommy, don't you?" asked the Cats'-meat-Man.
"Pretty certain, Matthew," I said. "I only hope he arrives in darkness. That's the one thing I'm afraid about now."
"Well, the Doctor don't often go wrong on calculations," said he.
"No," I said, "that's very true. But you see I'm by no means certain he'll come on the moth. If he does, he could be sure of his timing, because on our way up his watch never stopped. After we'd landed it went all wrong, on account of the gravity and different climate. But he noted down the exact number of hours it took us to get up there. However, Jamara Bumblelily was the only specimen of the giant moth we saw in the moon. It is possible she may not be able to bring the Doctor on this trip."
"What will 'e do, then?"
"I've no idea, Matthew," I said. "Perhaps he'll come on some other insect—which may take a longer or may take a shorter time."
At that moment there was a scratching on the door.
"Tommy, Tommy!" called Jip through the door. "Too-Too says he hears something—in the sky, a long way off. Listen and see if you can catch it!"