Hugh Lofting - Doctor Dolittle's Circus

Another thing that worried Matthew in the first days of the Doctor's management was his insistence on providing tea, free, for the public.

"Why, Doctor," he said, "you'll be ruined! You can't serve tea for thousands of people without charging them for it. This ain't a hotel—or a Widow's and Orphans' Home!

"Matthew," said the Doctor, "the people who come to visit my show are, in a way, my guests. Some of them come long distances— with babies to carry. Afternoon tea is a nice custom. I hate to go without it myself. It won't cost so much when we buy the tea and sugar by the hundredweight. Theodosia can make it."

So afternoon tea for all visitors became an institution. And shortly after another one was added: that of free packets of peppermints for the children. And what the Doctor prophesied came true. In one town where the Dolittle Circus crossed paths with another, a much bigger show, the Doctor's concern did twice the business that the other one did, because the people knew that they'd be given tea and treated honestly and politely.

"Free packets of peppermints for the children"

It was six weeks before the show was due to appear in London. The first town to be visited on the way there was Tilmouth. And it was here that the Doctor once more got put in prison—but only for one night. This is how it came about.

The animals, as I have said, were, if anything even more pleased to exchange Blossom for the Doctor as a boss than were the human performers. And one of the first things that John Dolittle did, as soon as a little extra money was made, was to go round and ask all the animals if they had any complaints to make. Of course, there were plenty. To begin with, nearly every creature in the menagerie wanted his den re–painted. So the Doctor had all the cages done over, each in the colors that its owner preferred.

Not long after the Doctor had had the menagerie done up, he received another complaint. This, indeed, was one that he had often heard before. The lion and the leopard were weary of confinement. They longed to get out of their narrow cages and stretch their legs in freedom.

"Well, you know," said John Dolittle, 'myself, I don't approve of keeping you shut up at all. If I had my way I'd ship you back to Africa and let you go free in the jungle. But the trouble is the money. However, as soon as I get enough together I will attend to it."

"If we could only get out a few minutes each day," said the lion, looking wistfully over the Doctor's shoulder toward the rolling hills of the countryside, "it wouldn't be so bad."

"No," said the leopard, "that would make life bearable. Oh, I'm sick of the four walls of this wretched box!"

The tone of the leopard's voice was so pathetic and the lion's face so sad the Doctor felt that something just had to be done right away.

"Look here," he said, "if I let you out for a run every evening would you promise me something?"

"Anything," said the two together.

"Would you come back at the end of half an hour? Honestly?"

"We would."

"And would you promise solemnly not to eat my people?"

"On our word of honor."

"All right," said the Doctor. "Then every evening after the show is over I'll open your cages and you can run free for half an hour."

So this, too, like the afternoon tea and the children's peppermints, became a custom of the Dolittle circus. The menagerie animals were put upon their honor and allowed to run free every evening provided they came back of their own accord. It worked surprisingly well for quite a while. The show people soon realized that the animals were acting up to their promise and could be trusted not to molest anyone. And even Theodosia got used to the idea of meeting a lion or a leopard roaming through the enclosure after dark on his way back to his den when his evening run was over.

"It is quite proper," said the Doctor. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before. They work all day, the same as we do— being on show. They deserve a little freedom and playtime at night."

Of course, the animals, when they went beyond the circus fence, were careful to keep out of the way of people because they didn't want to scare them—and people didn't interest them anyway. They were, in fact, heartily sick of them, having them gazing and staring in at the cages all day. But one evening when the circus had moved to a new town a rather serious thing happened. Matthew came rushing to the Doctor's wagon about ten o'clock and said:

"Governor, the lion hasn't come back! I went round to lock up just now and found the cage empty. And it's more than an hour since I let him out."

"Good heavens!" cried the Doctor, jumping up and dashing off toward the menagerie with Matthew at his heels, "I wonder what's wrong. He certainly wouldn't have run away after giving me his promise. I hope no accident has happened to him."

On reaching the menagerie, the Doctor went to the leopard's cage and asked him if he knew where the lion was.

"I think he must have got lost, Doctor," said the leopard. "We started out together and went for a stroll across that moor to the eastward. But it was new country to us. We came to a stream and couldn't get across. He went up stream and I went down, looking for a shallow place where we could get over to the other side. I had no luck. The stream got wider and deeper the further I went along the bank. Then I heard the church clock strike and I realized it was time to be getting back. I expected to find the lion here when I got home. But he wasn't."

"You didn't meet any people?" the Doctor asked.

"Not a soul," said the leopard. "I passed a farm but I went round it to avoid scaring anyone. He'll find his way back. Don't worry."

The Doctor stayed up all that night waiting for the lion to return. He even went out into the country and hunted along the stream that the leopard had spoken of. But no trace of the missing animal could he found.

Morning came and still no lion. And the Doctor was very worried. However, the opening of the circus kept his mind occupied. The people came thronging in and good business claimed everyone's attention.

At tea time, as was his custom, John Dolittle acted as host to his visitors and Theodosia was kept running back and forth waiting on the many little tables crowded with holiday–makers in their Sunday clothes.

Suddenly, just as the Doctor was passing among the tables to offer a lady a dish of cakes, he spied Mr. Lion strolling into the circus through the main gate. At the moment everybody was busy eating and drinking, and the Doctor hoped that the lion, who was quietly making for the menagerie, would reach his den before he was seen by the guests. But, alas! a party, a farmer and his family, coming out of the side show, ran right into the lion before he got to the menagerie door. There was a scream from a farmer's wife who grabbed her children and ran. The farmer threw his walking stick at the lion and also ran. Then for a couple of minutes pandemonium reigned. Women shrieked, tables were overturned and finally some stupid person in the crowd fired a gun. The poor lion, thoroughly frightened, turned about and ran for his life.

The excitement now partly died down, but the people were far too upset to stay and enjoy the circus any further and very soon they all went off home and the enclosure was deserted.

So Mr. Lion, after his brief reappearance, was again missing; and the Doctor feared that now, terrified at his reception, he would be harder to find than ever.

John Dolittle was arranging search parties to go out and hunt when two policemen came to the circus and put him under arrest. He was charged, they told him, with keeping wild animals at large and endangering the public. Furthermore, the lion, it seemed, had broken into a chicken yard and eaten all the chicken. As the Doctor was marched through the town to the jail the owner of the chickens followed him, calling him names and telling him how much he owed him.