Alan Alexander Miln. The house at Pooh Corner -
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his chair began sliding down on Piglet's. The clock slithered
gently along the mantelpiece, collecting vases on the way,
until they all crashed together on to what had once been the
floor, but was now trying to see what it looked like as a wall.
Uncle Robert, who was going to be the new hearthrug, and was
bringing the rest of his wall with him as carpet, met Piglet's
chair just as Piglet was expecting to leave it, and for a
little while it became very difficult to remember which was
really the north. When there was another loud crack
. . . Owl's room collected itself feverishly . . . and
there was silence.
In a corner of the room, the table-cloth began to
wriggle. Then it wrapped itself into a ball and rolled across
the room. Then it jumped up and down once or twice, and put out
two ears. It rolled across the room again, and unwound itself.
"Pooh," said Piglet nervously.
"Yes?" said one of the chairs.
"Where are we?"
"I'm not quite sure," said the chair.
"Are we--are we in Owl's House?"
"I think so, because we were just going to have tea,
and we hadn't had it."
"Oh!" said Piglet. "Well, did Owl always have a
letter-box in his ceiling?"
"Has he?"
Yes, look.
"I can't," said Pooh. "I'm face downwards under
something, and that, Piglet, is a very bad position for looking
at ceilings."
"Well, he has, Pooh."
"Perhaps he's changed it," said Pooh. "Just for a
change."
There was a disturbance behind the table in the other
corner of the room, and Owl was with them again.
"Ah, Piglet," said Owl, looking very much annoyed;
"where's Pooh?"
"I'm not quite sure," said Pooh.
Owl turned his voice, and frowned at as much of Pooh as