From then on she tried in her funny stiff way to show me that she liked me. This I am sure was not just because I fed her, but because I always treated her in the way she liked to be treated. Of her own accord she would often follow me round the place and watch with great interest whatever I was doing. But she had never as yet gone into the house.
One evening when I was returning from some of my gardening work I found her sitting on the Long Lawn gazing at the moon. I asked her if she would not like to come inside and join the animals round the kitchen fire. Rather to my surprise, she came in with me right away without saying a word.
In the kitchen they were all there: Gub–Gub, Chee–Chee, Dab–Dab, Polynesia, Jip, Too–Too and Whitey. They greeted me with friendly shouts; but when poor Itty stalked in behind me they all bristled like a lot of porcupines and a dead silence fell over the room.
The cat went over everything in the kitchen with her usual careful inspection. On the bottom shelf of the dresser there was a sort of rack for pots and pans. She peered into all the pots and smelt each of the pans. She moved silently over to the fireplace and examined the poker and tongs as though wondering what they were for. The fire itself she stared at for a long while and I wondered if it was the first time she had seen one burning inside a house.
During all this the rest of the animals never uttered a sound or a word, but followed her round the room with seven pairs of suspicious eyes as though she were a bomb that might blow up, or a creeping, deadly snake. I felt so angry I could have slapped them.
I nudged Jip with my knee and whispered,
"Can't you say something, you duffer? Start a little conversation. I never saw such hospitality. Make her feel at home!"
Jip coughed and spluttered and grunted like some one coming out of a trance.
"Oh, ah, yes," he said. "Er—ahem—er—splendid weather we're having, eh?"
I made signs to the rest of them to wake up and show some life. Gub–Gub came to the conversational rescue.
"Yes, indeed," said he, "though I did think it might rain in the early part of the morning. But who cares? There will be lots more weather tomorrow."
I glanced for help towards Polynesia on the win–dow–sill. She looked as sour as a pickle, but she understood I wanted entertainment. She broke into a dismal Russian sea–song about a shipwreck.
Then Whitey started to tell jokes, particularly dull ones which no one apparently heard—and even he himself forgot to laugh at them. Everybody's eyes and attention were still on the cat, who continued to stalk round the room. She looked as though she were taking no notice whatever of anything but her tour of inspection. Yet I felt certain she was listening to every word that was being said, and, quite possibly, understanding a good deal of it. Finally she disappeared under the table. Then all the company became more uncomfortable and awkward than ever. When they couldn't see her they seemed to feel their very lives were in danger from a hidden enemy. They reminded me of a lot of old maids at a tea–party, scared that a mouse was going to run up their skirts. I truly believe that if I had not been there they would have broken and run off in a panic. I was furious with them, knowing how much John Dolittle wanted the moon cat to feel at home in his house. Things were going from bad to worse. I did some chattering myself, talking about anything that came into my head. It was hard, uphill work. But I did manage to bully them at least into making a noise. It was the most ridiculous kind of conversation, but it was better than nothing.
After several minutes of it Dab–Dab said,
"Sh! What's that noise?"
We all listened. It was a strange sound.
"It's almost like a strong wind in the trees," whispered Gub–Gub.
"More like the sea breaking on a beach," said Jip.
"No—an engine, I'd say," murmured Dab–Dab—"Or a band playing in the distance—Extraordinary!"
"I wonder where it's coming from," squeaked the white mouse, who had, as usual, retired to the mantelpiece.
I looked under the table.
It was Itty. Although her eyes were half closed, I thought I saw the shadow of a smile on her face.
She was purring!
13
In the Doctor's Cell
But in spite of all there was to do, the old place was not the same without John Dolittle. I missed him terribly—so did the animals. The chats around the kitchen fire after supper were not the same. Somebody would start a story and we would all begin by listening attentively. Yet sooner or later the interest would wear off, the thoughts of the listeners would stray away and we would end by talking about the Doctor and wondering how he was getting on.
Dab–Dab, Too–Too, Jip and Chee–Chee—although they missed him as keenly as any—did not seem to worry about him so much. They were old and experienced friends of John Dolittle. They felt that he could take care of himself and would send us news of how he was getting on as soon as it was convenient for him to do so. But Gub–Gub and the white mouse began to get very upset as day after day went by and no news came from Goresby–St. Clements. They took me aside one morning when I was attending to the moon plants. (Polynesia was with me at the time.) They both looked very serious.
"They took me aside one morning"
"Tell me, Tommy," said Gub–Gub, "when are you planning to visit the Doctor?"
"Oh," said I, "I hadn't set any exact date. But he especially asked me to leave him alone for a good while. He's afraid that the police may find out that he got in jail on purpose. He wants to get sort of settled down before he has any visitors."
"Settled down!" cried the white mouse. "That sounds as though he might be there a terribly long time."
"We don't even know," said Gub–Gub with a very worried look, "how long they sent him to prison for. Maybe they sent him to jail for life!"
"Oh, no, Gub–Gub," I said, laughing. "They don't send people to prison for life—except for terribly serious crimes."
"But we haven't heard" squeaked the white mouse. "Maybe he did do something serious. He wasn't very successful with the window–breaking business. Perhaps he got desperate and killed a policeman—or a judge—just by accident I mean. Who knows?"
"No, no," I said, "that's not at all likely. If he got a sentence of a month in jail, that would be the most. And he would consider himself lucky to get that."
"But we don't know, Tommy, do we?" said the white mouse. "This—er—uncertainty is very wearing. We've heard nothing since he left. I can hardly sleep worrying about it, and ordinarily I'm a very good sleeper—at least I was until you brought that terrible cat into the house. But I do wish we had some word of how he is."
"What is he getting to eat?" asked Gub–Gub.
"I've no idea," I said, "but enough, anyhow, I'm sure."
"When we were thrown into jail by the King of the Jolliginki in Africa," said Gub–Gub, "we weren't given anything to eat at all!"
"Fiddlesticks!" snorted Polynesia, who was sitting on a tree near by. "We got put in prison after lunch and we escaped again before supper–time. What do you expect in jail—four meals a day?"
"Well, we didn't get anything to eat while we were in prison," said Whitey. "Gub–Gub's right. I was there too and I know. Something should be done about the Doctor. I'm worried."
"Oh, mind your own business!" said Polynesia.
"The Doctor will take care of himself. You're a fuss–budget."