VI

So for two weeks the animals travelled on toward Florida.

“It must be a long way,” said Hank. “The weather doesn’t seem to get any warmer.”

“But it doesn’t get any colder, either,” said Mrs. Wiggins, “and down here the leaves are still on the trees. When we left home, the trees round the farm had all shed their leaves and were ready for the winter.”

“Well, I don’t care how far it is,” said Hank. “We’re certainly having a good time. I shall be almost sorry when we get there.”

Nearly every day now large flocks of birds passed by them overhead, southward bound. And one morning the same swallow who had first put the idea of migrating into Charles’s head dropped down from the sky and circled about over them. She had left home two days earlier, and she gave them all the news of the farm, and messages from their relatives, and told them that Mr. and Mrs. Bean were well, but that they felt very bad that the animals had left them.

“At first,” she said, “Mr. Bean thought someone had stolen you, but then somehow he guessed that you had decided to go to Florida for the winter. I heard him tell Mrs. Bean that he hoped you’d have a good time and come back safe and sound in the spring. And he said that he was going to try to make things more comfortable for you, although he didn’t know how he’d manage it, because he didn’t have money enough to fix things up the way they ought to be.”

When the animals heard this, they felt a little sorry that they had left Mr. Bean without saying good-bye. “But we’ll bring him something nice from Florida when we go back,” they said.

So far they had kept away from the cities as much as possible, because they were afraid that the people would not understand that they were migrating, and would try to lock them up and keep them. And when they had to go through villages, they always waited till late at night, when everyone was asleep. But at last one day, away off in the distance, they saw a little speck of gold, that glittered and sparkled in the bright sunlight.

They wondered and wondered what the gold thing could be, but none of them knew, and pretty soon, as they went along, the road turned into a street, and there were houses on both sides of it and trolley tracks down the middle. And the speck of gold grew bigger and bigger. It looked as if a great golden balloon was tethered among the trees ahead of them.

“We’re coming to a city,” said Robert. “We’d better turn off this road and go round it.”

“I wish I knew what the gold thing is,” said Freddy, the pig. Freddy had a very inquiring mind.

Just then a little woolly, white dog with a very fancy blue ribbon around his neck came along, and Freddy asked him.

The little dog stuck his nose up in the air. “Don’t speak to me, you common pig,” he said.

“Eh?” said Freddy. “What’s the matter with you? I only asked you a civil question.”

“Go away, you vulgar creature,” said the little dog snippily.

“Oho!” said Freddy. “You’re too stuck up to talk to a pig, are you?” And he laughed and ran at the little dog and rolled him over and over in the road till his white coat and blue ribbon were both grey with dust. Then he stood him on his feet and said: “Now answer my question.”

Then the little dog meekly told him that the thing that looked like a golden balloon was the dome of the Capitol, and that the city they were coming to was Washington, where the President lives. And when Freddy had given him a lecture on politeness and had helped him to brush the dust off himself, he let him go.

“I’d like to see the President,” said Hank.

All the others said they would too, but they were afraid to go into the city because the people might lock them up, and boys were sure to throw stones at them.

But Jinx, the cat, said: “I vote we go, just the same. I don’t believe the President will let them do anything to us. And we can see the Capitol and the Washington Monument and maybe go up to the White House and call on the President.”

So they decided to go, and started down the street toward the city. All the people came out on their door-steps to watch them go by, but nobody bothered them, and by and by they came to the Capitol. They stood for a long time and admired the big, white building, with its many columns and its gilded dome, and then they walked round to the side and admired it some more, and while they were standing there, two senators in silk hats came out and saw them.

“I didn’t know animals ever visited the Capitol,” said the first senator.

“Neither did I,” said the second senator. “But I don’t see why they shouldn’t. I think it’s rather nice.”

Then a third senator came out and joined the other two, and he said: “By George! I have heard about these animals! They belong to one of my constituents. They’re going to Florida for the winter, and I believe they’re the first animals that ever migrated. This, gentlemen, is one of the most important occurrences in the annals of this august assemblage. I’m going to order a band, and take them round and show them the city.”

So he went in and ordered the band, and told the other senators, who put their heads out of the windows and smiled and waved to the animals.

“What’s a constituent?” asked Mrs. Wiggins.

But none of the others could tell her, and to this day she has never found out.

Pretty soon the band came, and they struck up “Marching Through Georgia,” and went up the wide avenue toward the White House, and the animals marched behind. First came the senator in his high hat, and then Charles and Henrietta, and then Mrs. Wiggins, with the mice sitting on her back, and then the two dogs and Freddy, the pig, and then Hank, with Alice and Emma on his back, and last came Jinx. They all walked in time to the music and held their heads up and pretended not to see any of the people that crowded the sidewalks, as everyone always does when he is in a parade. Beside them walked twenty policemen, to keep the people back and to prevent them from pulling the tail feathers out of the ducks or chickens to keep as souvenirs.

They went all over the city, and the senator showed them all the fine buildings and parks and monuments, and last they came to the White House. And there was the President out on the front porch, smiling and bowing to them, and as they filed past, he shook them each by a claw or a paw or a hoof. Even Eek and Quik and Eeny and Cousin Augustus overcame their timidity and put their tiny paws into the President’s big hand. They were all very proud.

And then they went on with the band playing a different tune every ten minutes, and the people cheering and waving handkerchiefs. When they got to the edge of the city, the band stopped and the senator made them a speech, which began:

“Friends and constituents, I am very sensible of the honour which you have done me to-day. To welcome a delegation of the home folks to the Nation’s Capital is one of the few pleasures that cheer the burdened brow of those whose stern duty it is to keep their shoulder always to the wheel of the ship of State. And that reminds me of the story of the two Irishmen.”

He told the story, and the animals laughed politely, although they did not see anything very funny about it, and that is why it is not written down here. Nor is the rest of the senator’s speech written down, for the animals did not understand much of it, and I am not at all sure that the senator did either. But all agreed that it was a stirring speech.

Then the senator said good-bye to the adventurers, and the band played “Auld Lang Syne,” and the animals went on their way.

“Well,” said Mrs. Wiggins with a sigh, as she dropped off to sleep that night, “we certainly had a grand time. But I do wish I knew what a constituent is.”