Now David did not want to intrude again without being definitely asked, but he had a sort of idea that though nobody had asked him to the animals’ ball, he had been expected all the same, indeed, that the whole thing had been got up for him. Probably it was the same case here, for the giraffe had said that the happy families’ concert was part of the programme for the evening, and, after all, the fact that quite a short while ago the High Street had been decorated with banners, on which was written ‘David Blaize, the fireman’s son,’ was a sort of invitation from the happy families to become one of them. Also he was tired with growing and ungrowing, and thought it would be very pleasant to sit down and listen to a little music. So, though it was not the sign of great cordiality to be greeted at the door by a huge mutton bone thrown at your head, he thought it better to ring the bell—though it wasn’t a bell but a coal-scuttle hung on a chain, and underneath it was the instruction ‘Knock also.’ So he first rang the coal-scuttle and then knocked it. It sounded as if all the dinner bells in the world had been pealed, and all the postmen in the world had come with letters. He felt quite ashamed of having made such a tumult, and, with the giraffe still in his mind, stood on tiptoe to get his mouth close to the bell, and whispered: ‘Hush, please: I had no idea you were so loud.’ The noise ceased at once, and dead silence succeeded. Then David heard a little clink come from the letter-box in the door, and he saw that the shutter of it had been raised, and that Mr. Chip the carpenter was looking at him. Then Master Dose the doctor’s son had a look, and David heard him giggling as he passed on to make room for Mr. Bones the butcher. After that there was a sound of whispering inside, and he tried hard not to hear what was being said. But the harder he tried, the more distinctly he heard it. ‘It doesn’t look a bit like him. Where’s his fire?’ ‘I expect they’ve forgotten to mend it. It’s gone out.’ ‘Stuff and nonsense: the fireman’s family put fires out themselves.’ ‘But he hasn’t got a ladder or anything to show who he is.’ ‘Nor a brass helmet. It can’t be the one.’ David tried to interest himself in other things, while he was being talked about like this. He found he was dressed in a sort of uniform with a sword by his side, and knee-breeches and a blue riband over his shirt, and a quantity of stars and medals on his coat. This discovery rather consoled him, for he evidently was expected at some party, since nobody dressed like this except for something grand. On the other hand, if they were expecting him to look like a fireman, it was no wonder they had their doubts about him, for he could not imagine putting out fires in this costume. But he had not long to wait, for the door flew open, and somebody inside called out in capital letters: ‘DAVID BLAIZE, THE FIREMAN’S SON.’