“I am not worried,” sniffed Dab-Dab, brushing away her tears with one wing, and swatting some flies off the bread-board with the other. “But it’s sort of lonely here without him.”
“Tut-tut!” grunted Too-Too. “Of course he’ll come back!”
There was a tapping at the window.
“Cheapside,” said Dab-Dab. “Let him in, Tommy.”
I lifted the sash and the cockney sparrow fluttered in and took his place upon the kitchen table where he fell to picking up what bread crumbs had been left after the house-keeper’s careful “clearing away.” Too-Too told him the situation in a couple of sentences.
“Why, bless my heart!” said the sparrow. “Why all these long faces? John Dolittle stuck in the Moon!—Preposterous notion!—Pre-posterous, I tell you. You couldn’t get that man stuck nowhere. My word, Dab-Dab! When you clear away you don’t leave much fodder behind, do you? Any mice what live in your ‘ouse shouldn’t ‘ave no difficulty keepin’ their figures.”
Well, it was done. And I was glad to be back in the old house. I knew it was only a question of time before I would regain a normal size on a normal diet. Meanwhile here I would not have to see anyone I did not want to.
“ ‘Don’t worry, Tommy, he’ll come back’ ”
And so I settled down to pruning the fruit trees, caring for the comfort of the old horse in the stable and generally trying to take the Doctor’s place as best I could. And night after night as the year wore on Jip, Too-Too and I would sit out, two at a time, while the Moon was visible to watch for the smoke signal. Often when we returned to the house with the daylight, discouraged and unhappy, Jip would rub his head against my leg and say: