of travel; these I loved--and especially the Doctor's great atlas
with all its maps of the different countries of the world.

This afternoon Polynesia was showing me the books about animals
which John Dolittle had written himself.

"My!" I said, "what a lot of books the Doctor has--all the way
around the room! Goodness! I wish I could read! It must be
tremendously interesting. Can you read, Polynesia?"

"Only a little," said she. "Be careful how you turn those
pages--don't tear them. No, I really don't get time enough for
reading--much. That letter there is a K and this is a B."

"What does this word under the picture mean?" I asked.

"Let me see," she said, and started spelling it out.
"B-A-B-O-O-N--that's MONKEY. Reading isn't nearly as hard as it
looks, once you know the letters."

"Polynesia," I said, "I want to ask you something very
important."

"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: