So the Doctor turned out his waistcoat pockets. These brought forth two watches (one that went and one that didn't), a measuring tape, a piece of cobbler's wax, a penny with a hole through it and a clinical thermometer.
"What's that?" asked Gub-Gub, pointing to the thermometer.
"That's for taking people's temperature with," said the Doctor. "Oh, that reminds me——"
"Of a story?" cried Too-Too.
"I knew it would," said Jip. "A thing like that must have a story to it. What's the name of the story, Doctor?"
"Well," said the Doctor, settling himself back in his chair, "I think I'll call this story 'The Invalids' Strike.'"
"What's a strike?" asked Gub-Gub.
"And what on earth is an invalid?" cried the pushmi-pullyu.
"A strike," said the Doctor, "is when people stop doing their own particular work in order to get somebody else to give them what they want. And an invalid—well, an invalid is a person who is always—er, more or less—ill."
"But what kind of work is invalids' work?" asked the white mouse.