So off we went together.
"Oh, I've known John Dolittle for years and years," said Matthew
as we made our way out of the market-place. "But I'm pretty sure
he ain't home just now. He's away on a voyage. But he's liable
to be back any day. I'll show you his house and then you'll know
where to find him."
All the way down the Oxenthorpe Road Matthew hardly stopped
talking about his great friend, Doctor John Dolittle--"M. D." He
talked so much that he forgot all about calling out "Meat!" until
we both suddenly noticed that we had a whole procession of dogs
following us patiently.
"Where did the Doctor go to on this voyage?" I asked as Matthew
handed round the meat to them.
"I couldn't tell you," he answered. "Nobody never knows where he
goes, nor when he's going, nor when he's coming back. He lives
all alone except for his pets. He's made some great voyages and
some wonderful discoveries. Last time he came back he told me
he'd found a tribe of Red Indians in the Pacific Ocean--lived on
two islands, they did. The husbands lived on one island and the
wives lived on the other. Sensible people, some of them savages.
They only met once a year, when the husbands came over to visit
the wives for a great feast-- Christmas-time, most likely. Yes,
he's a wonderful man is the Doctor. And as for animals, well,
there ain't no one knows as much about 'em as what he does."
"How did he get to know so much about animals?" I asked.
The cat's-meat-man stopped and leant down to whisper in my car.
"HE TALKS THEIR LANGUAGE," he said in a hoarse, mysterious voice.
"The animals' language?" I cried.
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