The Voyages of Doctor Doolittle (Illustrated Junior Library)
Doctor’s which you used to use as a blanket, in case it is cold in the night.” “Thanks,” said Chee-Chee. “It’s good to be back in the old house again. Everything’s just the same as when I left—except the clean roller-towel on the back of the door there—that’s new—Well, I think I’ll go to bed now. I need sleep.” Then we all went out of the kitchen into the scullery and watched Chee-Chee climb the plate-rack like a sailor going up a mast. On the top, he curled himself up, pulled the old
in the Doctor’s ear, “Please don’t forget to say something about the voyages.” “Oh, by the way,” said John Dolittle, “of course occasionally my work requires me to travel. You will have no objection, I take it, to your son’s coming with me?” My poor mother looked up sharply, more unhappy and anxious than ever at this new turn; while I stood behind the Doctor’s chair, my heart thumping with excitement, waiting for my father’s answer. “No,” he said slowly after a while. “If we agree to the
the killing of er—er—Bluebeard Bill?” “This, Your Honor,” said Mr. Jenkyns, talking in a very grand manner as though he were on a stage in a theatre: “there is in this court-room at the present moment a bulldog, who was the only living thing that saw the man killed. With the Court’s permission I propose to put that dog in the witness-stand and have him questioned before you by the eminent scientist, Doctor John Dolittle.” The Judge’s Dog At first there was a dead silence in the Court.
that bullfighting is an unworthy sport. I will meet you here to-morrow morning if you should wish to arrange any particulars. Good day, Sir.” As the Spaniard turned and walked into the shop with the bed-maker, Polynesia, who had been listening as usual, flew up on to my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “I, have a plan. Get hold of Bumpo and come some place where the Doctor can’t hear us. I want to talk to you.” I nudged Bumpo’s elbow and we crossed the street and pretended to look into a
splendid,” I said, “to be able to talk all the languages of the different animals. Do you think I could ever learn to do it?” “Oh surely,” said the Doctor—“with practise. You have to be very patient, you know. You really ought to have Polynesia to start you. It was she who gave me my first lessons.” “Who is Polynesia?” I asked. “Polynesia was a West African parrot I had. She isn’t with me any more now,” said the Doctor sadly. “Why—is she dead?” “Oh no,” said the Doctor. “She is still living,