Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle's Circus

"Why?" asked the Doctor. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I want money for rice and hay—for the menagerie," said the keeper. "The boss said he'd give me some this morning. The corn dealer's brought the feed. 'E won't leave it unless he gets his money. And my animals need the stuff bad."

"Oh, I suppose it slipped Mr. Blossom's mind," said the Doctor. "I'll pay the bill for you and get it from him when he returns. How much is it?"

"Thirty shillings," said the keeper—"two bales of hay and fifty pounds of rice."

"All right," said the Doctor. "Too–Too, give me the money box."

"There you are! There you are!" Dab–Dab broke in, her feathers all ruffled up with anger. "Instead of getting the money from Blossom that he owes you, you are paying his bills for him! The animals' feed isn't your concern. What's the use? What's the use? Blossom getting richer and you getting poorer; that's you, all over."

"The animals must be fed," said the Doctor, taking the money from the box and giving it to the keeper. "I'll get it back, Dab–Dab. Don't worry!"

The rain grew heavier and heavier all that morning. This was the circus's fourth day in this town. Hardly a penny had been taken in at the gates since the tents had been set up.

The Doctor, ever since his performance with Beppo at Bridgeton, had been looked upon by the show folk with an almost superstitious respect. Any man, they felt, who could talk the language of animals must know more about them than a mere ringmaster like Blossom. The Doctor had little by little made great changes throughout the management of the whole concern—though there still remained a tremendous lot that he wished to alter. Many of the performers had for some time considered him as the most important man in the circus and Blossom as just a figurehead.

The menagerie keeper had hardly left before another man turned up wanting money for some other of the daily expenses of the show. And throughout that morning people kept coming to the Doctor with tales that Blossom had promised them payment at a certain time. The result, of course, was that before long the Dolittle money box (which had been quite well filled by the pushmi–pullyu's exhibition the last two weeks) was empty once more.

Two o'clock in the afternoon came—three o'clock—and still Mr. Blossom hadn't returned.

"Oh, he must have been delayed," said the Doctor to Dab–Dab, who was getting more anxious and more angry every minute. "He'll be here soon. He's honest. I'm sure of that. Don't worry."

At half–past three Jip, who had been out nosing around in the rain, suddenly rushed in.

"Doctor!" he cried. "Come over to Blossom's wagon. I think there's something wrong."

"Why, Jip? What's the matter?" said the Doctor, reaching for his hat.

"Mrs. Blossom isn't there," said Jip. "At first I thought the door was locked. But I pushed it, and it wasn't. There's nobody in it. His trunk is gone—and nearly everything else, too. Come over and look. There's something queer about this."

Jip's words brought a puzzled frown into the Doctor's face. Slowly he put on his hat and followed the dog out into the rain.

On reaching Blossom's wagon he found everything as Jip had described it. There was no one within. Every article of value had been taken away. A few torn papers lay scattered on the floor. In the inner room, Mrs. Blossom's private boudoir, the same situation met the Doctor's eyes. The whole place looked as though those who lived there had left in a hurry, to be gone a long time.

While John Dolittle was still gazing confusedly around him someone touched him on the shoulder from behind. It was Matthew Mugg.

"Looks kind of bad, don't it?" he said. "Blossom didn't have to take his trunk and all to go and get his money out of the bank. If you was to ask me, I've a kind of a notion that we ain't goin' to see our good, kind manager no more. Eh?"

"Well, Matthew," said the Doctor, "we mustn't jump to conclusions. He said he'd be back. He may have been delayed. As to his trunk and things, they're his own. He has a right to do what he wants with them. It would be wrong to pass any judgments until we have more evidence than that.

"Humph!" muttered the Cat's–Meat–Man. "O' course, you always did hate to think anybody crooked. Still, I think you can say good–by to the money you earned in Manchester."

"We haven't any proof, Matthew," said the Doctor. "And listen: if what you suspect is true, it's going to be a very serious matter for all the people in the circus. Please don't say anything of your suspicions for the present, will you? There is no need to get the show folk excited until we really know. Now, will you please saddle up a horse quietly and go into Manchester for me? See Mr. Bellamy and ask him if he knows anything of what has become of Blossom. Get back here and bring me word as soon as you can, will you?"

"All right," said Matthew, turning to go. "But I don't think Mr. Bellamy'll know any more of where our manager's gone than what you do. 'E's probably on 'is way to the Continong* by now."

Jip, after listening to this conversation, slipped away and joined the other animals in the Doctor's own wagon.

"Fellows," he said, shaking the wet out of himself, "Alexander Blossom has skidaddled*."

"Good heavens!" cried Too–Too. "With the money?"

"Yes, with the money—drat him!" growled Jip. "And there was enough coming to the Doctor to keep us in comfort for the rest of our days."

"I knew it!" groaned Dab–Dab, throwing out her wings in despair. "I told the Doctor not to trust him. I guessed him to be a fishy customer from the start. Now he's wallowing in luxury while we scrape and pinch to pay the bills he left behind."

"Oh, what does it matter?" cried Gub–Gub. "So much the better if he's gone. Now we'll have a real circus—The Dolittle Circus— which the animals have always hoped for. Good riddance to Blossom—the crook! I'm glad he's gone."

"What you don't know," said Dab–Dab, turning on the pig severely, "would fill a library. How is the Doctor to run a circus without a penny in his pocket? How is he going to pay wages—ground rent? How is he going to feed the animals and himself? It costs pounds and pounds a day to keep a circus going, you pudding, you! And look at the rain—coming down as though it never meant to stop! And the whole show just standing here and not a soul coming to see it! And wagon loads of animals eating up pounds of money a day! And the payroll of dozens of men mounting higher every minute. 'Glad he's gone!—you—you sausage!"

After Matthew had gone the Doctor remained within the shelter of Blossom's deserted wagon, thoughtfully watching the rain splatter into the muddy puddles outside. Presently he sat down on an old packing case and lit his pipe. From time to time he took out his watch and looked at it, frowning.

After half an hour had gone by he saw Hercules, dressed in ordinary clothes, approaching across the enclosure. He was running to avoid the rain. Reaching the wagon, he sprang within, and then shook his wet overcoat outside the doorway.

"I hear the boss has skipped," he said. "Is it true?"

"I have no idea," said the Doctor. "He is late in returning from Manchester. But something may have detained him."

"Well, I hope he comes soon," said Hercules. "He owes me a week's wages. And I need it."

The strong man sat down and he and the Doctor fell to chatting about weather and weather signs.

Not many minutes later along came Hop the clown, with his dog, Swizzle. Evil news travels fast. He, too, had heard a humor that Blossom had deserted the circus. The Doctor tried again to excuse the ringmaster, and insisted that he be not suspected till proof was obtained.