I hadn’t gone very far when my head bumped into something soft and I sat down suddenly on the pavement. I looked up to see whom I had run into. And there in front of me, sitting on the wet pavement like myself, was a little round man with a very kind face. He wore a shabby high hat and in his hand he had a small black bag. “I’m very sorry,” I said. “I had my head down and I didn’t see you coming.” To my great surprise, instead of getting angry at being knocked down, the little man began to laugh. “You know this reminds me,” he said, “of a time once when I was in India. I ran full tilt into a woman in a thunderstorm. But she was carrying a pitcher of molasses on her head and I had treacle in my hair for weeks afterwards—the flies followed me everywhere. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” “No,” I said. “I’m all right.” “It was just as much my fault as it was yours, you know,” said the little man. “I had my head down too—but look here, we mustn’t sit talking like this. You must be soaked. I know I am. How far have you got to go?” “My home is on the other side of the town,” I said, as we picked ourselves up. “My Goodness, but that _was_ a wet pavement!” said he. “And I declare it’s coming down worse than ever. Come along to my house and get dried. A storm like this can’t last.” He took hold of my hand and we started running back down the road together. As we ran I began to wonder who this funny little man could be, and where he lived. I was a perfect stranger to him, and yet he was taking me to his own home to get dried. Such a change, after the old red-faced Colonel who had refused even to tell me the time! Presently we stopped. “Here we are,” he said. I looked up to see where we were and found myself back at the foot of the steps leading to the little house with the big garden! My new friend was already running up the steps and opening the gate with some keys he took from his pocket. “Surely,” I thought, “this cannot be the great Doctor Dolittle himself!” I suppose after hearing so much about him I had expected some one very tall and strong and marvelous. It was hard to believe that this funny little man with the kind smiling face could be really he. Yet here he was, sure enough, running up the steps and opening the very gate which I had been watching for so many days! The dog, Jip, came rushing out and started jumping up on him and barking with happiness. The rain was splashing down heavier than ever. “Are you Doctor Dolittle?” I shouted as we sped up the short garden-path to the house. “Yes, I’m Doctor Dolittle,” said he, opening the front door with the same bunch of keys. “Get in! Don’t bother about wiping your feet. Never mind the mud. Take it in with you. Get in out of the rain!” I popped in, he and Jip following. Then he slammed the door to behind us.