He tripped over his hair, and fell in a twittering heap.
A cold nose and a warm tongue examined Tuppenny and turned him over. He gazed up in terror at the little dog and a small black pig, who were sniffing all over him. ‘What? what? what? Whatever sort of animal is it, Sandy?’ ‘Never saw the like! it seems to be all hair! What do you call yourself, fuzzy wig?’ ‘P-p-please sir, I’m not a fuzzy wig, a fuzzy pig, a please sir I’m a guinea-pig.’ ‘What, what? a pig? Where’s your tail?’ said the little black pig. ‘Please sir, no tail, I never had – no guinea-pig – no tail – no guinea-pigs have tails,’ twittered Tuppenny in great alarm. ‘What? what? no tails? I had an uncle with no tail, but that was accidental. Carry him to the fire, Sandy; he is cold and wet.’
Sandy lifted Tuppenny delicately by the scruff of the neck; he held his own head high and curled his tail over his back, to avoid treading on Tuppenny’s hair. Paddy Pig scampered in front; ‘What! what! we’ve found a new long-haired animal! Put more sticks on the fire Jenny Ferret! Set him down beside the dormouse, Sandy; let him warm his toes.’
Tuppenny turned and fled.
The person addressed as Jane Ferret was an oldish person, about twelve inches high when she stood upright. She wore a cap, a brown stuff dress, and always a small crochet crossover. She filled up the tea-pot from a kettle on the fire, and gave Tuppenny a mug of hot balm tea and a baked apple. He was much comforted by the warmth of the fire, and by their kindness. In reply to questions he said his name was ‘Tuppenny’; but he seemed to have forgotten where he came from. Only he remembered vaguely that his hair had been a grievance.
The circus company admired it prodigiously. ‘It is truly mar-veel-ious,’ said the Dormouse stretching out a small pink hand, and touching a damp draggled tress. ‘Do you use hairpins?’ ‘I’m afraid, I’m sorry, I haven’t any,’ twittered Tuppenny apologetically. ‘Let hairpins be provided – hair – pins,’ said the Dormouse, falling fast asleep. ‘I will go fetch some in the morning if you will lend me your purse,’ said Iky Shepster the starling, who was pecking a hole in the turf to hide something. ‘You will do nothing of the sort. Bring me my teaspoon, please,’ said Jenny Ferret. The starling chittered and laughed, and flew to the top of the caravan where he roosted at night.
The sun had set. The red fire-light danced and flickered round the camp circle. The pony dozed beside the caravan, lazily whisking his long tail. Sandy was lying stretched before the fire and panting with the heat. He watched Tuppenny with bright brown eyes, through his shaggy white eyebrows. ‘Tuppenny, where are you going to?’ ‘I have forgotten.’ ‘What do you intend to do with yourself?’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘Let him ride in the tilt-cart,’ said Pony Billy; they were the first words that he had spoken. ‘Tuppenny, will you come with us? You shall have your share of fun, and peppercorns, and sugar candy. Come with us and join the circus, Tuppenny!’ cried all the little animals. ‘I think I would like to, yes please, thank you,’ twittered Tuppenny shyly. ‘Quite right, quite right! what! what!’ said the small black pig, ‘Lucky you found us today; we will be over the hills and far away tomorrow.’
‘Wake up, wake up! Xarifa Dormouse! get into your sleeping box. And you, Tuppenny, shall go to bed in this hamper. Good night!’
Chapter 3
Moving Camp
Tuppenny fell asleep at once, and slept for many hours.
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