Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Human-animal communication -- Juvenile fiction
When John Dolittle lent him a little looking-glass to see himself in,
he sang for joy and began dancing around the prison. But the Doctor
asked him not to make so much noise about it; and when he had closed
his medicine-bag in a hurry he told him to open the prison-door.
Bumpo begged that he might keep the looking-glass, as it was the only
one in the Kingdom of Jolliginki, and he wanted to look at himself all
day long. But the Doctor said he needed it to shave with.
Then the Prince, taking a bunch of copper keys from his pocket, undid
the great double locks. And the Doctor with all his animals ran as fast
as they could down to the seashore; while Bumpo leaned against the wall
of the empty dungeon, smiling after them happily, his big face shining
like polished ivory in the light of the moon.
When they came to the beach they saw Polynesia and Chee-Chee waiting
for them on the rocks near the ship.
“I feel sorry about Bumpo,” said the Doctor. “I am afraid that
medicine I used will never last. Most likely he will be as black as
ever when he wakes up in the morning—that’s one reason why I didn’t
like to leave the mirror with him. But then again, he _might_ stay
white—I had never used that mixture before. To tell the truth, I was
surprised, myself, that it worked so well. But I had to do something,
didn’t I?—I couldn’t possibly scrub the King’s kitchen for the rest
of my life. It was such a dirty kitchen!—I could see it from the
prison-window.—Well, well!—Poor Bumpo!”
“Oh, of course he will know we were just joking with him,” said the
parrot.
“They had no business to lock us up,” said Dab-Dab, waggling her tail
angrily. “We never did them any harm. Serve him right, if he does turn
black again! I hope it’s a dark black.”
“But _he_ didn’t have anything to do with it,” said the Doctor. “It was
the King, his father, who had us locked up—it wasn’t Bumpo’s fault....
I wonder if I ought to go back and apologize—Oh, well—I’ll send him
some candy when I get to Puddleby. And who knows?—he may stay white
after all.”
“The Sleeping Beauty would never have him, even if he did,” said
Dab-Dab. “He looked better the way he was, I thought. But he’d never be
anything but ugly, no matter what color he was made.”
“Still, he had a good heart,” said the Doctor—“romantic, of course—but
a good heart. After all, ‘handsome is as handsome does.’”
“I don’t believe the poor booby found The Sleeping Beauty at all,”
said Jip, the dog. “Most likely he kissed some farmer’s fat wife who
was taking a snooze under an apple-tree. Can’t blame her for getting
scared! I wonder who he’ll go and kiss this time. Silly business!”
Then the pushmi-pullyu, the white mouse, Gub-Gub, Dab-Dab, Jip and
the owl, Too-Too, went on to the ship with the Doctor. But Chee-Chee,
Polynesia and the crocodile stayed behind, because Africa was their
proper home, the land where they were born.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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