ChapterIIIThe SalamanderChapter 3 header
Chapter 3 header
Nibbleswas sorry that he had not asked where the kitchen was, but he preferred to hunt it up himself rather than to go back to Mrs. Guinea Pig’s hot bath-room, and after a little while he found it.
The tea-kettle was boiling cheerily on the stove, and Nibbles noticed a delicious odor of toasted cheese and bacon, but nowhere could he see the Salamander.
Nibbles looking in coalhob
He looked in the cupboard and under the sink, behind the door and under the table, in the coalhod and behind the stove, until at last, being very hungry, he began to call: “Mr. Salamander! Oh, Mr. Salamander!”
At once he heard a sleepy, squeaky voice saying: “Yes, yes, I’ll get up in a minute. Is it time for breakfast already?”
The voice came from the stove, and, to Nibbles’s amazement, he saw theoven door slowly open, and the most curious looking animal with a very sleepy face jump out. It looked like a fat black lizard, with large flame-color spots, bright black eyes, and queer, short little legs.
Salamander
After giving such a prodigious yawn that Nibbles was afraid that he might never be able to shut his mouth again, he looked at Nibbles and said very sadly: “Oh, dear! I was having such a lovely dream when you woke me up.”
“I am very sorry,” replied Nibbles, “but I am so hungry that I shall soon be ready to eat my whiskers.”
“Well, well,” said the Salamander, “you sha’n’t wait another minute”; and he bustled about so fast that, before he knew it, Nibbles was eating large quantities of cheese and bacon pie, and drinking cups of tea so hot that it made him wink.
Meanwhile, the Salamander had climbed up on top of the stove, where he sat with his feet hanging over the edge, nodding and dozing.
Nibbles eating at a table
Salamander on the stove
“Do youneverget too hot?” inquired Nibbles.
“Oh, no,” replied the Salamander. “I belong to a very chilly family. We are all devoted to heat and poetry. Would you like to hear my favorite poem?”
“Yes, very much,” said Nibbles.
So the Salamander, in a high, squeaky voice, began to recite:
“The Salamander loves to sitUpon the red-hot stove,And longs to clasp it in his arms,Wherever he may rove.“He likes the little scarlet flamesThat sparkle in the fire,And in a boiling tea-kettleSees something to admire.
“The Salamander loves to sitUpon the red-hot stove,And longs to clasp it in his arms,Wherever he may rove.“He likes the little scarlet flamesThat sparkle in the fire,And in a boiling tea-kettleSees something to admire.
“The Salamander loves to sitUpon the red-hot stove,And longs to clasp it in his arms,Wherever he may rove.
“The Salamander loves to sit
Upon the red-hot stove,
And longs to clasp it in his arms,
Wherever he may rove.
“He likes the little scarlet flamesThat sparkle in the fire,And in a boiling tea-kettleSees something to admire.
“He likes the little scarlet flames
That sparkle in the fire,
And in a boiling tea-kettle
Sees something to admire.
“Do you remember what comes next?” he inquired anxiously. “I am afraid that I have forgotten.”
“No,” said Nibbles. “I am very fond of singing, but I don’t know any poetry.”
“Well,” yawned the Salamander, “in that case, I think, if you don’t mind, that I’ll take another nap. Poetry always makes me very sleepy.”
Then, curling his short little arms around the tea-kettle, and resting his head so near the spout that Nibbles was afraid the steam would blow it off, he began once more to recite very drowsily.
By this time Nibbles had eaten all that he possibly could, so he said good-bye to the Salamander, who paid no attention, and started off again.
As he trotted briskly down the hall, he could still hear the Salamander murmuring sleepily to himself: “He—likes—the—lit—tle—scar—let——flames——which——” and then nothing more; so he must have gone fast asleep.
Nibbles leaving