He had a terrible time of it. Whenever he passed through a town all the children ran after him in a crowd, laughing; and often silly people caught hold of him and tried to stop him, so that he had to run up lampposts and climb to chimney-pots to escape from them. At night he used to sleep in ditches or barns or anywhere he could hide; and he lived on the berries he picked from the hedges and the cobnuts that grew in the copses. At length, after many adventures and narrow squeaks, he saw the tower of Puddleby Church and he knew that at last he was near his old home.
When Chee-Chee had finished his story he ate six bananas without stopping and drank a whole bowlful of milk.
“My!” he said, “why wasn’t I born with wings, like Polynesia, so I could fly here? You’ve no idea how I grew to hate that hat and skirt. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. All the way from Bristol here, if the wretched hat wasn’t falling off my head or catching in the trees, those beastly skirts were tripping me up and getting wound round everything. What on earth do women wear those things for? Goodness, I was glad to see old Puddleby this morning when I climbed over the hill by Bellaby’s farm!”
“Your bed on top of the plate-rack in the scullery is all ready for you,” said the Doctor. “We never had it disturbed in case you might come back.”
“Yes,” said Dab-Dab, “and you can have the old smoking-jacket of the 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 smoking-jacket over him, and in a minute he was snoring peacefully.
“Good old Chee-Chee!” whispered the Doctor. “I’m glad he’s back.”
“Yes—good old Chee-Chee!” echoed Dab-Dab and Polynesia.
Then we all tiptoed out of the scullery and closed the door very gently behind us.
XV
I Become a Doctor’s Assistant
When Thursday evening came there was great excitement at our house. My mother had asked me what were the Doctor’s favorite dishes, and I had told her: spare ribs, sliced beetroot, fried bread, shrimps and treacle-tart. Tonight she had them all on the table waiting for him; and she was now fussing round the house to see if everything was tidy and in readiness for his coming.
At last we heard a knock upon the door, and of course it was I who got there first to let him in.
The Doctor had brought his own flute with him this time. And after supper was over (which he enjoyed very much) the table was cleared away and the washing-up left in the kitchen-sink till the next day. Then the Doctor and my father started playing duets.
They got so interested in this that I began to be afraid that they would never come to talking over my business. But at last the Doctor said,
“Your son tells me that he is anxious to become a naturalist.”
And then began a long talk which lasted far into the night. At first both my mother and father were rather against the idea—as they had been from the beginning. They said it was only a boyish whim, and that I would get tired of it very soon. But after the matter had been talked over from every side, the Doctor turned to my father and said,
“Well now, supposing, Mr. Stubbins, that your son came to me for two years—that is, until he is twelve years old. During those two years he will have time to see if he is going to grow tired of it or not. Also during that time, I will promise to teach him reading and writing and perhaps a little arithmetic as well. What do you say to that?”
“I don’t know,” said my father, shaking his head. “You are very kind and it is a handsome offer you make, Doctor. But I feel that Tommy ought to be learning some trade by which he can earn his living later on.”
Then my mother spoke up. Although she was nearly in tears at the prospect of my leaving her house while I was still so young, she pointed out to my father that this was a grand chance for me to get learning.
“Now Jacob,” she said, “you know that many lads in the town have been to the Grammar School till they were fourteen or fifteen years old. Tommy can easily spare these two years for his education; and if he learns no more than to read and write, the time will not be lost. Though goodness knows,” she added, getting out her handkerchief to cry, “the house will seem terribly empty when he’s gone.”
“I will take care that he comes to see you, Mrs. Stubbins,” said the Doctor—“every day, if you like. After all, he will not be very far away.”
Well, at length my father gave in; and it was agreed that I was to live with the Doctor and work for him for two years in exchange for learning to read and write and for my board and lodging.
“Of course,” added the Doctor, “while I have money
