“Yes,” said the Doctor, “that’s true.  Oh I have no doubt that there are shellfish who are good talkers—­not the least doubt.  But the big shellfish—­the biggest of them, are so hard to catch.  They are only to be found in the deep parts of the sea; and as they don’t swim very much, but just crawl along the floor of the ocean most of the time, they are very seldom taken in nets.  I do wish I could find some way of going down to the bottom of the sea.  I could learn a lot if I could only do that.  But we are forgetting all about breakfast—­Have you had, breakfast yet, Stubbins?”

I told the Doctor that I had forgotten all about it and he at once led the way into the kitchen.

“Yes,” he said, as he poured the hot water from the kettle into the tea-pot, “if a man could only manage to get right down to the bottom of the sea, and live there a while, he would discover some wonderful things—­ things that people have never dreamed of.”

“But men do go down, don’t they?” I asked—­“divers and people like that?”

“Oh yes, to be sure,” said the Doctor.  “Divers go down.  I’ve been down myself in a diving-suit, for that matter.  But my!—­they only go where the sea is shallow.  Divers can’t go down where it is really deep.  What I would like to do is to go down to the great depths—­where it is miles deep—­Well, well, I dare say I shall manage it some day.  Let me give you another cup of tea.”

THE EIGHTH CHAPTER

Are you A good noticer?

Just at that moment Polynesia came into the room and said something to the Doctor in bird language.  Of course I did not understand what it was.  But the Doctor at once put down his knife and fork and left the room.

“You know it is an awful shame,” said the parrot as soon as the Doctor had closed the door.  “Directly he comes back home, all the animals over the whole countryside get to hear of it and every sick cat and mangy rabbit for miles around comes to see him and ask his advice.  Now there’s a big fat hare outside at the back door with a squawking baby.  Can she see the Doctor, please!—­Thinks it’s going to have convulsions.  Stupid little thing’s been eating Deadly Nightshade again, I suppose.  The animals are so inconsiderate at times—­especially the mothers.  They come round and call the Doctor away from his meals and wake him out of his bed at all hours of the night.  I don’t know how he stands it—­ really I don’t.  Why, the poor 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 con-siderate.  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.