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Part One | Hugh Lofting | |
XI My Schoolmaster, Polynesia |
Page 2 of 2 |
"What is it, my boy?" said she, smoothing down the feathers of her right wing. Polynesia often spoke to me in a very patronizing way. But I did not mind it from her. After all, she was nearly two hundred years old; and I was only ten. "Listen," I said, "my mother doesn't think it is right that I come here for so many meals. And I was going to ask you: supposing I did a whole lot more work for the Doctor-- why couldn't I come and live here altogether? You see, instead of being paid like a regular gardener or workman, I would get my bed and meals in exchange for the work I did. What do you think?" "You mean you want to be a proper assistant to the Doctor, is that it?" "Yes. I suppose that's what you call it," I answered. "You know you said yourself that you thought I could be very useful to him." "Well"--she thought a moment--"I really don't see why not. But is this what you want to be when you grow up, a naturalist?" "Yes," I said, "I have made up my mind. I would sooner be a naturalist than anything else in the world." "Humph!--Let's go and speak to the Doctor about it," said Polynesia. "He's in the next room--in the study. Open the door very gently--he may be working and not want to be disturbed." |
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The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle Hugh Lofting |
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