Alan Alexander Miln. The house at Pooh Corner -
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"After all," said Rabbit to himself, "Christopher Robin
depends on Me. He's fond of Pooh and Piglet and Eeyore, and so
am I, but they haven't any Brain. Not to notice. And he
respects Owl, because you can't help respecting anybody who can
spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right; but spelling
isn't everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply
doesn't count. And Kanga is too busy looking after Roo, and Roo
is too young and Tigger is too bouncy to be any help, so
there's really nobody but Me, when you come to look at it. I'll
go and see if there's anything he wants doing, and then I'll do
it for him. It's just the day for doing things."
He trotted along happily, and by-and-by he crossed the
stream and came to the place where his friends-and-relations
lived. There seemed to be even more of them about than usual
this morning, and having nodded to a hedgehog or two, with whom
he was too busy to shake hands, and having said, "Good morning,
good morning," importantly to some of the others, and "Ah,
there you are," kindly, to the smaller ones, he waved a paw at
them over his shoulder, and was gone leaving such an air of
excitement and I-don't-know-what behind him, that several
members of the Beetle family, including Henry Rush, made their
way at once to the Hundred Acre Wood and began climbing trees,
in the hope of getting to the top before it happened, whatever
it was, so that they might see it properly. Rabbit hurried on
by the edge of the Hundred Acre Wood, feeling more important
every minute, and soon he came to the tree where Christopher
Robin lived. He knocked at the door, and he called out once or
twice, and then he walked back a little way and put his paw up
to keep the sun out, and called to the top of the tree, and