I hunted up old Chee-Chee and told him about it.  He said he didn’t blame me a bit—­felt exactly the same way himself.  Africa was so deadly quiet after the life we had led with you.  He missed the stories you used to tell us out of your animal books—­ and the chats we used to have sitting round the kitchen-fire on winter nights.  The, animals out there were very nice to us and all that.  But somehow the dear kind creatures seemed a bit stupid.  Chee-Chee said he had noticed it too.  But I suppose it wasn’t they who had changed; it was we who were different.  When I left, poor old Chee-Chee broke down and cried.  He said he felt as though his only friend were leaving him—­ though, as you know, he has simply millions of relatives there.  He said it didn’t seem fair that I should have wings to fly over here any time I liked, and him with no way to follow me.  But mark my words, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he found a way to come—­some day.  He’s a smart lad, is Chee-Chee.”

At this point we arrived at my home.  My father’s shop was closed and the shutters were up; but my mother was standing at the door looking down the street.

“Good evening, Mrs. Stubbins,” said the Doctor.  “It is my fault your son is so late.  I made him stay to supper while his clothes were drying.  He was soaked to the skin; and so was I. We ran into one another in the storm and I insisted on his coming into my house for shelter.”

“I was beginning to get worried about him,” said my mother.  “I am thankful to you, Sir, for looking after him so well and bringing him home.”

“Don’t mention it—­don’t mention it,” said the Doctor.  “We have had a very interesting chat.”

“Who might it be that I have the honor of addressing?” asked my mother staring at the gray parrot perched on the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m John Dolittle.  I dare say your husband will remember me.  He made me some very excellent boots about four years ago.  They really are splendid,” added the Doctor, gazing down at his feet with great satisfaction.

“The Doctor has come to cure my squirrel, Mother,” said I.  “He knows all about animals.”

“Oh, no,” said the Doctor, “not all, Stubbins, not all about them by any means.”

“It is very kind of you to come so far to look after his pet,” said my mother.  “Tom is always bringing home strange creatures from the woods and the fields.”

“Is he?” said the Doctor.  “Perhaps he will grow up to be a naturalist some day.  Who knows?”

“Won’t you come in?” asked my mother.  “The place is a little untidy because I haven’t finished the spring cleaning yet.  But there’s a nice fire burning in the parlor.”

“Thank you!” said the Doctor.  “What a charming home you have!”

And after wiping his enormous boots very, very carefully on the mat, the great man passed into the house.

THE SIXTH CHAPTER