or man never gets any peace at all! I've told him time
and again to have special hours for the animals to come. But he is so
frightfully kind and considerate. He never refuses to see them if there
is anything really wrong with them. He says the urgent cases must be
seen at once."

"Why don't some of the animals go and see the other doctors?" I asked.

"Oh Good Gracious!" exclaimed the parrot, tossing her head scornfully.
"Why, there aren't any other animal-doctors--not real doctors. Oh of
course there ARE those vet persons, to be sure. But, bless you, they're
no good. You see, they can't understand the animals' language; so how
can you expect them to be any use? Imagine yourself, or your father,
going to see a doctor who could not understand a word you say--nor even
tell you in your own language what you must do to get well! Poof!--those
vets! They're that stupid, you've no idea!--Put the Doctor's bacon down
by the fire, will you?--to keep hot till he comes back."

"Do you think I would ever be able to learn the language of the
animals?" I asked, laying the plate upon the hearth.

"Well, it all depends," said Polynesia. "Are you clever at lessons?"

"I don't know," I answered, feeling rather ashamed. "You see, I've never
been to school. My father is too poor to send me."

"Well," said the parrot, "I don't suppose you have really missed
much--to judge from what I have seen of school-boys. But listen: are
you a good noticer?--Do you notice things well? I mean, for instance,
supposing you saw two cock-starlings on an apple-tree, and you only took
one good look at them--would you be able to tell one from the other if
you saw them again the next day?"

"I don't know," I said. "I've never tried."

"Well that," said Polynesia, brushing some crumbs off the corner of
the table with her left foot--"that is what you call powers of
observation--noticing the small things about birds and animals: the way
they walk and move their heads and flip their wings; the way they sniff
the air and twitch their whiskers and wiggle their tails. You have to
notice all those little things if you want to learn animal language. For
you see, lots of the animals hardly talk at all with their tongues; they
use their breath or their tails or their feet instead. That is because
many of them, in the olden days when lions and tigers were more
plentiful, were afraid to make a noise for fear the savage creatures
heard them. Birds, of course, didn't ca