The House at Pooh Corner - A. A. Milne [6]
“What did you say it was?” he asked.
“Tigger.”
“Ah!” said Eeyore.
“He’s just come,” explained Piglet.
“Ah!” said Eeyore again.
He thought for a long time and then said:
“When is he going?”
Pooh explained to Eeyore that Tigger was a great friend of Christopher Robin’s, who had come to stay in the Forest, and Piglet explained to Tigger that he mustn’t mind what Eeyore said because he was always gloomy; and Eeyore explained to Piglet that, on the contrary, he was feeling particularly cheerful this morning; and Tigger explained to anybody who was listening that he hadn’t had any breakfast yet.
“I knew there was something,” said Pooh. “Tiggers always eat thistles, so that was why we came to see you, Eeyore.”
“Don’t mention it, Pooh.”
“Oh, Eeyore, I didn’t mean that I didn’t want to see you—”
“Quite—quite. But your new stripy friend—naturally, he wants his breakfast. What did you say his name was?”
“Tigger.”
“Then come this way, Tigger.”
Eeyore led the way to the most thistly-looking patch of thistles that ever was, and waved a hoof at it.
“A little patch I was keeping for my birthday,” he said; “but, after all, what are birthdays? Here today and gone tomorrow. Help yourself, Tigger.”
Tigger thanked him and looked a little anxiously at Pooh.
“Are these really thistles?” he whispered.
“Yes,” said Pooh.
“What Tiggers like best?”
“That’s right,” said Pooh.
“I see,” said Tigger.
So he took a large mouthful, and he gave a large crunch.
“Ow!” said Tigger.
He sat down and put his paw in his mouth.
“What’s the matter?” asked Pooh.
“Hot!” mumbled Tigger.
“Your friend,” said Eeyore, “appears to have bitten on a bee.”
Pooh’s friend stopped shaking his head to get the prickles out, and explained that Tiggers didn’t like thistles.
“Then why bend a perfectly good one?” asked Eeyore.
“But you said,” began Pooh—“you said that Tiggers like everything except honey and haycorns.”
“And thistles,” said Tigger, who was now running round in circles with his tongue hanging out.
Pooh looked at him sadly.
“What are we going to do?” he asked Piglet.
Piglet knew the answer to that, and he said at once that they must go and see Christopher Robin.
“You’ll find him with Kanga,” said Eeyore. He came close to Pooh, and said in a loud whisper:
“Could you ask your friend to do his exercises somewhere else? I shall be having lunch directly, and don’t want it bounced on just before I begin. A trifling matter, and fussy of me, but we all have our little ways.”
Pooh nodded solemnly and called to Tigger.
“Come along and we’ll go and see Kanga. She’s sure to have lots of breakfast for you.”
Tigger finished his last circle and came up to Pooh and Piglet.
“Hot!” he explained with a large and friendly smile. “Come on!” and he rushed off.
Pooh and Piglet walked slowly after him. And as they walked Piglet said nothing, because he couldn’t think of anything, and Pooh said nothing, because he was thinking of a poem. And when he had thought of it he began:
What shall we do about
poor little Tigger?
If he never eats nothing he’ll
never get bigger.
He doesn’t like honey and haycorns
and thistles
Because of the taste and because of
the bristles.
And all the good things which an
animal likes
Have the wrong sort of swallow or
too many spikes.
“He’s quite big enough anyhow,” said Piglet.
“He isn’t really very big.”
“Well, he seems so.”
Pooh was thoughtful when he heard this, and then he murmured to himself:
But whatever his weight in pounds,
shillings, and ounces,
He always seems bigger
because of his bounces.
“And that’s the whole poem,” he said. “Do you like it, Piglet?”
“All except the shillings,” said Piglet. “I don’t think they ought to be there.”
“They wanted to come in after the pounds,” explained Pooh, “so I let them. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” said Piglet.
Tigger had been bouncing in front of them all this time, turning round every now and then to ask, “Is this the