“They are no larger than you,” said Dulcie. “And very little larger than Red, and daddy is taller than a lot of them, but not so thick. Only Wally looks small.” She giggled wickedly. “Really, doesn’t he look funny? The way he scowls, and stares up at them! But then,” she went on gloomily, “look at me! I’m shorter than Wally. See how I have to look up at ’em.” “Yeah; they love it. But at that Wally isn’t so short; he’s just about a scant average. The rest of us are all so big. Why, when I was a kid, I used to worry for fear I would be too big to fly.” “Children are funny, aren’t they?” agreed Dulcie. “Here’s our car; let’s go out to the field. I’ll tell daddy we have gone.” She leaned back in the car, with a sigh of relaxation. “It has been wonderful, hasn’t it? Surely they won’t be half as glad to see us in Tokio. Here, of course, they feel a great interest on account of the Graf Zeppelin. And of course she did blaze the way; we are just beating her time.” “If we can,” hedged David. “We mustn’t crow. We are three hours behind her time, now.” “We will make it up,” said Dulcie, easily. “Oh, David, I have so many cares. I have shipped home all the lovely presents people here have given me, but I can’t express the live stock.” “Koko?” asked David. “Koko! Heavens, no! I wish it was Koko. David, I have two love birds, four German Roller canaries, a kitten, and a marmoset.” “A marmoset!” repeated David. “Why, that’s a monkey, isn’t it?” “A very little bit of a one,” said Dulcie, groaning. “One of those aviators gave it to me. He brought it over from Africa one day.” David howled. He laughed so hard that people looked around at _der grosse Amerikaner_, who was making so much noise. “Oh, won’t it be fun when your father sees that menagerie? The air will be just full of love birds, and monkeys, and rolly-canaries, and kittens.” “You are showing a cloven foot,” she said. “Don’t you like pets?” David sobered down. “Truly, I do, and I could be happy forever if I could have a couple of love birds, and some canaries, and a kitten, and you—your marmoset,” he added quickly, warned by Dulcie’s prim mouth. “That’s better, big boy, and when we get home perhaps I will give you some of them. The marmoset, and maybe my best love—bird! But now,” she added, all too briskly, “we’ll soon be back on the Moonbeam. I’ve a lot to do, and there will no doubt be thousands of _tüchtiger_ officers, waiting to say _Auf Wiedersehen_.” CHAPTER IX EASTWARD