Hugh Lofting: Doctor Dolittle and the Green Canary

'Are you ill, madam?' he asked.

'Certainly not!' she snapped. 'I was startled by this bird. She's the prima donna of that famous opera a doctor by the name of Dolittle presented in London a few months ago. You must have read about it in the papers, sir. It made quite a sensation.'

'Indeed,' said the man, raising his eyebrows quizzically 'But if this is the same bird, what is she doing here? And how does it happen she picked you out to land on?'

'Nincompoop!' muttered Aunt Rosie under her breath. And then, smiling very smugly, she answered the stranger.

'Sometime ago she used to belong to me. I gave her away to a fellow who washed windows for me. He must have given her to that opera fellow—sold her, most likely; he was very poor. I can't imagine what she is doing here, but she must have recognized me. I wonder if she's lost.'

'Perhaps the doctor you speak of is somewhere about here,' said the man, glancing over his shoulder. 'That might account for the bird's presecen.'

The idea so surprised Aunt Rosie that she walked abruptly away from the man without so much as a nod. She began peering into the faces of the people around her, searching for the famous impresario of the opera, Doctor Dolittle. Suddenly she stopped.

'Why, my goodness, Pippinella!' she said. 'I don't even know what he looks like. Everybody in London was talking about him. And the papers were full of his pictures but each one was so different from the others I couldn't make up my mind what he did look like. I know he wore a high silk hat and—and—'

Aunt Rosie was staring across the square with her head thrust forward. When Pippinella realized that the old lady had spotted the Doctor, she spread her wings and took off for the bench.

'Doctor Dolittle! Wake up!' the canary cried. 'Aunt Rosie is coming this way!'

John Dolittle opened his eyes with a start and pushed his hat to the back of his head.

'A—um,' he said sleepily. 'What did you say, Pippinella?'

'Aunt Rosie is here,' Pippinella said. 'You remember, Doctor, the little old lady who took me out of the coal–mine.'

By the time the Doctor was fully awake and had straightened his tie, Aunt Rosie was standing before him. John Dolittle quickly arose and bowed to her.

'Doctor John Dolittle!' she cried. 'Why—my gracious me! You're the same man who came to tea that afternoon—and left in such a hurry to catch the coach. Your sister said something about your being a doctor and all that. But I was so disappointed at your sudden departure I didn't pay much attention. Imagine me having entertained the great John Dolittle. And didn't know it. I declare! I must tell the ladies of my sewing circle about this.'

Doctor Dolittle just stood there—hat in hand. It always confused the modest little man to be treated like a celebrity. He much preferred to allow others to take the bows and receive the praise.

'Good morning, madam,' he said, bowing to cover up his shyness. 'I'm very happy to see you again.'

With that, Aunt Rosie let loose a flood of questions. How had the Doctor come by Pippinella? Did he know his sister, Sarah, had moved to Liverpool? Was he planning any more operas to be presented in London? Did he ever find that fellow, the window–cleaner? Wouldn't he please come to tea some day soon and meet the ladies of the sewing circle?

The Doctor kept opening and closing his mouth in an effort to answer each question as it tumbled forth. But Aunt Rosie didn't give him a chance; she wasn't really concerned with the answers—all she wanted to do was to engage the Doctor's attention long enough so that her friends around the market–place should see her talking to the famous John Dolittle.

Suddenly, in the middle of another question, she caught sight of Steve, who had awakened and shoved his hat off his face where it had served as a shield against the bright sun. Pointing her finger at him, she cried:

'Why, there he is now—the window–cleaner! Whatever happened to you , my good man? I thought surely you'd be back to do my windows again. That maid of mine, Emily, is simply no good at it. Are you still cleaning windows?'

While Aunt Rosie was chattering on, Steve had risen from the bench, removed his hat, and was waiting for the flood of questions to cease so that he could answer one of them, at least.

'No, madam,' he finally managed to say. 'I'm living with the Doctor now. You see, the window–washing was just as mens to an end.—A way to earn some money so that I could get back to London.'

'Well, I'm not surprised,' said the old lady. 'I knew there was something different about you. I suppose you're in one of the arts—as the Doctor is?''

'In a way,' Steve replied.

The Doctor, realizing that Aunt Rosie would not stop probing until she discovered something she could take to her sewing circle friends, decided to bring the interview to an end. He took his gold watch out of his pocket and consulted it.

'We really must be going. Aunt Rosie,' he said. 'It's ten minutes to eight and we—'

'Oh, my gracious!' interrupted the woman. 'The coach for London will be here any moment. I came up to market to get some eggs for my sister—she lives in Knightsbridge, you know. Has six children and uses a tremendous quantity of food. And they get the most abominable eggs in the city —not fit to feed to a pig! It gives me a good excuse to pay her a visit every fortnight or so. Today I'm taking her some cheese as well. Did you ever taste our local cheese, Doctor? It's made right here in Wendlemere. There's none better, I tell you—finer than imported.'

'Indeed!' said the Doctor. 'I must try it sometime.'

He glanced at Steve who was waiting uncomfortably for Aunt Rosie to stop talking. The window–cleaner stepped to the old lady's side and offered her his arm.

'May I escort you to your coach, madam?'; he asked politely, knowing that John Dolittle was having a difficult time getting rid of Aunt Rosie.

'I must get my eggs and cheese first,' she said, taking his arm. 'We can chat on the way. Good–bye, Doctor. Don't forget your promise to come to tea one day.'

John Dolittle nodded as they hurried way. Pippinella, who had been on Steve's shoulder all during the conversation, called out as they left the Doctor and Jip.

'I'll just go along with Steve, if you don't mind, Doctor. I may catch a glimpse of that fellow in the crowd. If I do, I'll be back in a hurry.'

The Doctor and Jip watched Steve piloting Aunt Rosie among the stalls as she made her purchases. Finally they saw them heading towards the coach stop at the north end of the square. In the distance could be heard the clippity–clop of horses's hoofs and the jingle of harness as the London coach approached the town. Over the various sounds that accompanied a market gathering the Doctor heard the clear sweet voice of the canary as she gaily sang The Harness Jingle Song .

'Pippinella is happy again with her master,' he said to Jip. 'I suppose the jingle of the harness recalls the song she compose when she lived at the Inn of the Seven Seas.'

'Yes,' said Jip. 'It's good to hear her singing again. I hope nothing happens to part her from her friend—no that he's found.'

As they listened, the sound of the approaching coach grew louder. In the distance, the Doctor could see Aunt Rosie with her arm upraised as a signal to the driver to stop. Business around the market–place momentarily suspended while merchants and townspeople turned their heads to watch the coach from the North arrive.

Suddenly, with a thundering of hoofs and a rumble of carriage wheels, the coach tore past the stop and continued right on through the market–lace. People scattered in fright, chickens and ducks ran for their lives—their feathers flying, and the dust threw a screen over the whole town.