Hugh Lofting - Doctor Dolittle's Circus

"I should say I am, Sir!" cried the boy.

"All right. Here's your first shilling—and here's a penny to buy a packet of seed with. I appoint you head gardener to the Rest Farm. You're now on the payroll of the Retired Cab and Wagon Horses' Association. Make the radish bed fairly big, because I may be sending down some more horses later. When the radishes are ripe, you make them up into bunches and hand them out to the members twice a week. And don't forget to plant new seed every so often, to keep up the supply. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now give me your Christian name," said the Doctor, "and I'll send you your wages every week. And if you should have to leave your job—to go away or anything—get your father to write me a letter. He knows how to reach me."

The boy, pleased as Punch with his good luck, gave the Doctor his name, took his money and ran off to get a spade and fork and start his new work.

"Well, so that's that," the Doctor murmured as he hurried on toward Bridgeton. "Now, I must try to think out a way to break the news gently to Dab–Dab that our money–box is emptied again."

The Rest Farm which the Doctor established that day continued to flourish and grow for many years. And another worry was added to the many which harassed Dab–Dab, the careful housekeeper. For not only had the Doctor bound himself to send the farmer twenty pounds every six months, but he further reduced the Dolittle fortunes by buying, every once in a while, some specially old and weary horse which he would meet on the streets. He bought them from cab drivers, from rag–and–bone men, from all sorts of people. Poor Dab–Dab used to be terrified when she saw a gypsy wagon come in sight on the road. For gypsies' horses were always particularly thin and scrawny–looking, and it was almost certain that the Doctor would try to buy the poor creatures from men who were much better skilled than he in shrewd bargaining.

All these old waifs and wrecks of horses the Doctor would send down to the Rest Farm to be made free members of the Association. Beppo's and Toggle's partnership grew into quite a family circle of old cronies—horses from all walks of life. And many were the interesting tales of bygone days told beneath the big trees of an evening or around the post on top of the hill. Here the old fellows would stand in line, waiting to scratch their necks, watching the beauty of the peaceful landscape grow dim in the red glow of the setting sun.

And still the membership list grew longer and longer. The boy who kept the radish garden sent a letter to the Doctor, saying he had had to enlarge the bed and needed help. He had a school friend, he wrote, who was also saving up to buy skates. Would the Doctor employ him too?

The Doctor did; and the payroll of the Association advanced to two shillings a week. John Dolittle paid a visit to the farm after it had been going for about three months. On consulting with the committee (five of the oldest veterans), he found that money was required for repairing fences and keeping the ditches clear beneath the hedges. Some of the members needed their hoofs trimmed (they didn't bother to wear shoes, of course). So he arranged with the lad he had first appointed as gardener to extend the radish bed considerably, in order that quite a large crop of vegetables could be grown—more than was needed for the members.

The lad had a good head for business and this was done; and two more friends of his were employed for the extra work. Then the money that was made by selling the vegetables was used to form a "Fencing and Farriers' Fund,"—to hire hedgers and ditchers and blacksmiths every so often to keep the fences in repair and to trim the members' hoofs.

Paying the extra boys, of course, took still more from the Dolittle money box—and added still more to the worries of Dab–Dab the housekeeper.

"What's the use?" cried Too–Too one evening when they were discussing accounts—"what's the use of my doing all this double–entry bookkeeping—making my head fairly ache with arithmetic? It doesn't do any good to calculate how much the Doctor has—or to estimate how much he's going to have. No matter what it is, he spends it all!"

"'What's the use?' cried Too–Too"

By getting a lift on the road in a fast trap that overtook him, John Dolittle reached the circus late that night, instead of early the following morning, as he had expected. And the first thing that Matthew Mugg said to him as he entered the wagon was:

"Blossom told me he wanted to see you as soon as you got in. That toff from Manchester is still with him."

Thereupon the Doctor immediately left his own wagon and set out for that of the ringmaster. Jip asked could he come along, and the Doctor said yes.

The circus was now all packed up ready for departure early to–morrow morning. As John Dolittle approached Blossom's caravan he saw a light in the window. It was very late—after midnight.

Within he found the ringmaster sitting at the little table with the smartly dressed man whom he had seen earlier in the day.

"Good evening, Doctor," said the ringmaster. "This gentleman is Mr. Frederick Bellamy, proprietor and manager of the Manchester Amphitheatre. He has something 'e'd like to say to you."

The Doctor shook hands with Mr. Bellamy, who at once leant back in his chair, put his thumbs in the armholes of his white waistcoat and began:

"I have delayed my return to Manchester, Doctor Dolittle—in spite of urgent and pressing business—in order to discuss with you an engagement which I had offered to Mr. Blossom this afternoon. I witnessed your act with the Talking Horse and was greatly interested in it. Mr. Blossom tells me that he tried to get you to consent to take part in his show's performance in my theatre, but that you refused—took the horse away to put him grazing."

The Doctor nodded, and Mr. Bellamy went on:

"I then supposed that the deal was off, because—I don't mind telling you—without your turn I would not be interested in this circus. But Mr. Blossom has persuaded me to remain and talk with you myself. He assured me that the intelligence of the performance was not in that particular horse, but in your own unusual powers with animals—that you could give as good a show with any horse. He tells me, though I confess I can hardly believe it, that you can actually communicate with animals in their own language. Is that so?"

"Well," said the Doctor, looking uncomfortable, "I'm sorry that Mr. Blossom told you this. I don't claim it, or talk of it, myself, because I find that people don't usually believe me. But,—yes, it is true. With most animals I can converse freely."

"Indeed," said Mr. Bellamy. "Most extraordinary! That being the case, we had thought that perhaps you would be willing to do us an act with some other animal, or animals, in place of the horse that you have just taken away. My idea is to make it something more elaborate—to have it form the bigger, more important part of Mr. Blossom's show. It is something quite new, this gift of yours. And, properly put on, it ought to make a great sensation. Of course, you understand, it would be well paid for—very, I might say. Would you consider it?"

"I haven't any other turn worked out at the moment," said the Doctor. "I am somewhat new to this business. My idea of shows with animals is that they must always be done with the consent and willing cooperation of the animals themselves."

"Oh, quite, quite," said Mr. Bellamy. "It is very late now. Suppose you think it over until to–morrow. I cannot catch the coach to–night. And if you consider it, let me know in the morning, eh?"

As the Doctor made his way back to his own wagon, Jip who had listened to the conversation with great interest, trotted by his side.