Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle's Circus

More bouquets were thrown to Columbine and a bunch of carrots to Pantaloon—which he started eating before he left the stage.

Mr. Bellamy said he had never seen such enthusiasm in the theatre since he had owned it. And he immediately asked Blossom if he would be willing to renew the engagement for a second week.

When the other turns were over and the audience left the theatre Gub–Gub went out into the hall to look at the stage from the seats. There he found many programs scattered around the floor. He asked the Doctor what they were. And he was delighted when he was shown his own name printed there as playing the part of Pantaloon.

"Humph!" said he, folding it carefully. "I must keep this. I think I'll put it in my menu album."

"Don't you mean your stamp album?" asked the Doctor.

"No," said Gub–Gub. "I gave up collecting stamps some time ago. I collects menus now. They're much better fun to look at."

The Dolittle household, now that they were encamped near the theatre, did not see so much of their old friends of the circus. Nevertheless, the Doctor frequently went across the amusement park to see how Matthew and the pushmi–pullyu were getting on. And Hop the clown, Hercules and the Pintos often visited the theatre to see the pantomime and to make tea at the Dolittle wagon.

The extraordinary success of the Doctor's play continued throughout the week—the crowds growing greater, if anything, with each performance. It became necessary to secure seats a long way in advance if you wanted to see the show, a thing which had only happened once before at the Amphitheatre when a world–famous violinist had played there.

Wealthy gentlemen and elegant ladies called at the Doctor's little wagon almost every evening to congratulate him and to see and pet his marvelous animal actors. Gub–Gub got frightfully conceited and put on no end of temperamental airs, often refusing to see his admirers if they called during the hour he was accustomed to take for his nap.

"Famous artists have to be very careful of themselves," he said. "I am only at home to callers between ten and twelve in the morning. You better have that printed in the newspapers, Doctor."

One lady brought an autograph album for him to sign, and with the Doctor's help, he put a very clumsy "G. G." in it for her and the picture of a parsnip, which, he said, was his family crest.

Dab–Dab, although she had become just as famous, was much more easily interviewed by visitors. Immediately after each performance she could be seen bustling about her household duties in the wagon, often still wearing her ballet skirt while she made beds or fried potatoes.

"That pig makes me tired," she said. "What's the use of our putting on airs? None of us would be famous if it hadn't been for the Doctor. Any animal could do what we do if they had him to teach them. By the way, Doctor," she added, spreading the tablecloth for supper, "have you been to see Blossom about the money?"

"No," said the Doctor. "Why bother yet? The first week is hardly over. And I understand the pantomime is to run a second one. No, I haven't seen Blossom in—let me see—not in three days."

"Well, you ought to. You should go and get your share of the money every night."

"Why? Blossom is a trustworthy man."

"Is he?" said Dab–Dab, putting the salt–cellars on the table. "Well, I wouldn't trust him further than I could see him. If you take my advice, you'll get your money each night. There must be a lot owing to you, especially since they put the pantomime on twice a day instead of only in the evening."

"Oh, that's all right, Dab–Dab," said the Doctor. "Don't worry. Blossom will bring me the money as soon as he has his accounts straightened out."

The housekeeper during the next few days frequently asked John Dolittle to see about this matter, but he never would. And even after the first week was over and the second nearly so Blossom had not come forward with the Doctor's share, nor, indeed, was he often seen by any member of the Dolittle household. The pushmi–pullyu had also done well with his sideshows, and, as the money made by this was quite sufficient for living expenses, the easy–going Doctor, as usual, refused to worry.

Toward the end of the second week the fame of the Puddleby Pantomime had become so great and so many people had called to interview the Doctor and his company that it was decided to give an at home and to invite the public to tea. [ Transcriber note—"to give an at home" is as it was in book]

Then for a whole morning the good housekeeper was more than usually busy. Over two hundred printed cards of invitation had been sent out. Mrs. Mugg was called in to help. A large number of small tables were set about the wagon; the inside of the caravan was decorated with flowers; lots of tea and cakes were prepared and at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon the gates of the little enclosure beside the theatre were thrown open to visitors.

All the animals, some of them dressed in their pantomime costumes, then acted as hosts and sat around at the tables, sipping tea with the elegant ladies and gentlemen who were anxious to meet them. It was a farewell party, for the next day the whole of Blossom's Circus was to leave. The Mayor of the city came and the Mayoress and a number of newspaper reporters, who made sketches in their notebooks of Hostess Dab–Dab pouring tea and Gub–Gub handing around cakes.

"Gub–Gub handing round cakes"

The next day, after one of the most successful visits of its career, the circus packed up and moved out of Manchester.

The town they went to was a small one, some twelve miles to the northeast. Rain began to fall as the wagons arrived at the show ground and th work of setting up was very disagreeable for everyone. For, besides the wretched, steady drizzle, the dirt underfoot soon got worked up into mud with the constant tramping of feet.

The rain continued the next day, and the next. This, of course, was a terrible thing for the circus business, because nobody came to see the show.

"Well, never mind," said the Doctor, as his family sat down to breakfast on the third rainy morning. "We made plenty of money in Manchester. That should tide us over a bad spell easily."

"Yes, but you haven't got that money yet, remember," said Dab–Dab, "thought goodness knows I've told you often enough to ask Blossom for it."

"I saw him this morning," said John Dolittle, "just before I came in to breakfast. It's quite all right. He says it was such a large amount he was afraid to keep it on him or in his wagon. So he put it in a bank in Manchester."

"Well, why didn't he take it out of the bank when he left," asked Dab–Dab, "and give you half of it?"

"It was a Sunday," said the Doctor. "And, of course, the banks were closed."

"But what does he mean to do about it, then?" asked the housekeeper. "He isn't going to leave it there, is he?"

"He's going back to–day to fetch it. He was just starting off on horseback when I spoke to him. I didn't envy him his ride in the rain."

Now, running a circus is an expensive thing. The animals have to be fed, the workmen and performers have to be paid and there are a whole lot of other expenses for which money must be handed out hourly. So that during these rainy days, when no people came and the enclosure stood wet and empty instead of making money, "The Mammoth Circus" was losing it every day—every hour, in fact.

Just as the Doctor finished speaking the menagerie keeper, with his coat collar turned up against the rain, poked his head in at the door.

"Seen the boss anywhere around?" he asked.

"Mr. Blossom has gone into Manchester," said John Dolittle. "He expects to be back about two in the afternoon, he told me."

"Humph!" said the man. "That's a nuisance."