“They’re just going to air the bedding for me in front of the fire. Dab-Dab is a perfect treasure of a housekeeper; she never forgets anything. I had a sister once who used to keep house for me (poor, dear Sarah! I wonder how she’s getting on—I haven’t seen her in many years). But she wasn’t nearly as good as Dab-Dab. Have another sausage?” The Doctor turned and said a few words to the dog and duck in some strange talk and signs. They seemed to understand him perfectly. “Can you talk in squirrel language?” I asked. “Oh yes. That’s quite an easy language,” said the Doctor. “You could learn that yourself without a great deal of trouble. But why do you ask?” “Because I have a sick squirrel at home,” I said. “I took it away from a hawk. But two of its legs are badly hurt and I wanted very much to have you see it, if you would. Shall I bring it to-morrow?” “Well, if its leg is badly broken I think I had better see it to-night. It may be too late to do much; but I’ll come home with you and take a look at it.” So presently we felt the clothes by the fire and mine were found to be quite dry. I took them upstairs to the bedroom and changed, and when I came down the Doctor was all ready waiting for me with his little black bag full of medicines and bandages. “Come along,” he said. “The rain has stopped now.” Outside it had grown bright again and the evening sky was all red with the setting sun; and thrushes were singing in the garden as we opened the gate to go down on to the road. _THE FIFTH CHAPTER_ POLYNESIA “I THINK your house is the most interesting house I was ever in,” I said as we set off in the direction of the town. “May I come and see you again to-morrow?” “Certainly,” said the Doctor. “Come any day you like. To-morrow I’ll show you the garden and my private zoo.” “Oh, have you a zoo?” I asked. “Yes,” said he. “The larger animals are too big for the house, so I keep them in a zoo in the garden. It is not a very big collection but it is interesting in its way.” “It must be splendid,” I said, “to be able to talk all the languages of the different animals. Do you think I could ever learn to do it?” “Oh surely,” said the Doctor—“with practise. You have to be very patient, you know. You really ought to have Polynesia to start you. It was she who gave me my first lessons.” “Who is Polynesia?” I asked. “Polynesia was a West African parrot I had. She isn’t with me any more now,” said the Doctor sadly. “Why—is she dead?”