Hugh Lofting - Doctor Dolittle's Circus

Standing it in a firm place, he scaled up and sat astride the wall. Next he pulled the ladder up after him, changed it across to the other side and lowered the foot–end into the passage.

Then John Dolittle, perched astride the top of the wall (looking exactly like Humpty Dumpty), whispered down into the dark passage below him:

"Now climb up, Sophie. I'll keep this end steady. And when you reach the top get onto the wall beside me till I change the ladder over to the garden side. Don't get flustered now. Easy does it."

It was a good thing that Sophie was so well trained in balancing. Never in the circus had she performed a better trick than she did that night. It was a feat that even a person might well be proud of. But she knew that her freedom, the happiness of her husband, depended on her steadiness. And, though she was in constant fear that any minute some one might come down the passage and discover them, it gave her a real thrill to turn the tables on her captors by using the skill they had taught her in this last grand performance to escape them.

Firmly, rung by rung, she began hoisting her heavy body upward. The ladder, fortunately, was longer than the height of the wall. Thus the Doctor had been able to set it at an easier, flattish slope, instead of straight upright. With the seal's weight it sagged dangerously; and the Doctor on the wall prayed that it would prove strong enough. Being an orchard ladder, for tree–pruning, it got very narrow at the top. And it was here, where there were hardly room enough for a seal's two front flappers to take hold, that the ticklish part of the feat came in. Then, from this awkward situation Sophie had to shift her clumsy bulk onto the wall, which was no more than twelve inches wide, while the Doctor changed the ladder.

But in the circus Sophie had been trained to balance herself on small spaces, as well as to climb ladders. And after the Doctor had helped her by leaning down and hoisting her up by the slack of her sealskin jacket, she wiggled herself along the top of the wall beside him and kept her balance as easily as though it were nothing at all.

Then, while Sophie gave a fine imitation of a statue in the moonlight, the Doctor hauled the ladder up after her, swung it over—knocking his own high hat off in the process—and lowered it into the garden once more.

Coming down, Sophie did another of her show tricks: she laid herself across the ladder and slid to the bottom. It was quicker than climbing. And it was lucky she did slide. For the Doctor had hardly lowered the ladder to the lawn when they heard voices in the passage they had left. They had only just got into the garden in time.

"Thank goodness for that!" said the Doctor when the sound of footsteps had died away. "A narrow squeak, Sophie! Well, we're safe for the present, anyway. Nobody would dream of looking for you here. Oh, I say, you're lying on the carnations. Come over here onto the gravel. —So. Now, shall we sleep in the tool–shed or the house?"

"He lowered the ladder into the garden"

"This seems good enough to me," said Sophie, wallowing into the long grass of the lawn. "Let's sleep outdoors."

"No, that will never do," said the Doctor. "Look at all the houses around. If we stay in the garden people could see us out of the top windows when daylight came. Let's sleep in the tool–shed. I love the smell of tool–sheds—and then we won't have to break open any doors."

"Nor climb any stairs," said Sophie, humping along toward the shed. "I do hate stairs. Ladders I can manage: but stairs are the mischief."

Inside the tool–shed they found by the dim light of the moon several old sacks and large quantities of bass–grass. Out of these materials they made themselves two quite comfortable beds.

"My, but it's good to be free!" said Sophie, stretching out her great, silky length. "Are you sleepy, Doctor? I couldn't stay awake another moment if you paid me."

"Well, go to sleep then," said the Doctor. "I'm going to take a stroll in the garden before turning in."

The Doctor, always fascinated by any kind of a garden, lit his pipe and strolled out of the tool–shed into the moonlight. The neglected appearance of the beds and lawns of this deserted property reminded him of his own beautiful home in Puddleby. There were weeds everywhere. John Dolittle could not abide weeds in flower–beds. He pulled one or two away from the roots of a rose–tree. Further along he found them thicker still, nearly smothering a very fine lavender bush.

"Dear me!" he said, tiptoeing back to the shed for a hoe and a basket. "What a shame to neglect a fine place like this!"

And before long he was weeding away by moonlight like a Trojan— just as though the garden were his own and no danger threatened him within a thousand miles.

"After all," he muttered to himself as he piled the basket high with dandelions, "we are occupying the place—and rent free at that. This is the least I can do for the landlord."

After he had finished the weeding he would have got the mower and cut the lawn—only that he was afraid the noise might wake the neighbors.

And when, a week later, the owner of the property rented the place to his aunt, that good lady entirely puzzled her nephew by writing to congratulate him on the way he had had his garden kept!

The Doctor, going back to bed after a hard night's work, suddenly discovered that he was hungry. Remembering the apple–trees he had noticed behind a wistaria arbor, he turned back. But no fruit could he find. It had all been gathered or taken by marauding boys. Knowing that he would not be able to move about the garden after daylight came, he then started hunting for vegetables. But in this he had no better luck. So, with the prospect of a foodless day before him to–morrow, he finally went to bed.

In the morning the first thing Sophie said when she woke up was:

"My! I've been dreaming about the dear old sea all night. It's given me a wonderful appetite. Is there anything to eat around, Doctor?"

"I'm afraid not," said John Dolittle. "We'll have to go without breakfast—and lunch, too, I fear. I dare not to try to get out of here by daylight. As soon as it gets dark, though, I may be able to go by myself and bring you some kippers or something from a shop. But I hope that late to–night they'll have given up hunting for you and that we can both make for the open country and get on our way to the sea."

Well, Sophie was very brave and made the best of it. But, as the day wore on they both got ravenously hungry. Somewhere near one o'clock in the afternoon, Sophie, suddenly said:

"Sh! Did you hear that?"

"No," said the Doctor, who was looking for onions in a corner of the shed. "What was it?"

"It's a dog barking in the passage—the other side of the garden wall. Come out from under the bench and you'll hear it. Goodness! I do hope they're not hunting me with dogs now. The game's up if they do."

The Doctor crawled out from under a potting table, came to the door and listened. A low, cautious bark reached his ears from over the wall.

"Good Heavens!" he muttered. "That's Jip's voice. I wonder what he wants."

Not far from the shed there was a thick, branchy pear tree standing close to the wall. Making sure no one saw him from the windows of houses overlooking the garden, the Doctor sped across and got behind the tree.

"What is it, Jip?" he called. "Is anything wrong?"

"Let me in," Jip whispered back. "I can't get over the wall."

"How can I?" said the Doctor. "There's no door and I'm afraid the neighbors may see me if I move out in the open."

"Get a rope and tie a basket on the end," whispered Jip. "Then throw it over the wall behind the tree and I'll get in it. When I bark, pull on the rope and haul me up. Hurry! I don't want to be seen around this passage."