Mr. Popper's Penguins

to the bathroom, it looked around with a pleased expression on its face.
    “Perhaps,” thought Mr. Popper, “all that white tiling reminds him of the ice and snow at the South Pole. Poor thing, maybe he’s thirsty.”
    Carefully Mr. Popper began to fill the bathtub with cold water. This was a little difficult because the inquisitive bird kept reaching over and trying to bite the faucets with its sharp red beak. Finally, however, he succeeded in getting the tub all filled. Since the penguin kept looking over, Mr. Popper picked it up and dropped it in. The penguin seemed not to mind.
    “Anyway, you’re not shy,” said Mr. Popper. “I guess you’ve got sort of used to playing around with those explorers at the Pole.”
    When he thought the penguin had had enough of a bath, he drew out the stopper. He was just wondering what to do next when Janie and Bill burst in from school.

    “Papa,” they shouted together at the bathroom door. “What is it?”
    “It’s a South Pole penguin sent to me by Admiral Drake.”
    “Look!” said Bill. “It’s marching.”
    The delighted penguin was indeed marching. With little pleased nods of his handsome black head he was parading up and down the inside of the bathtub. Sometimes he seemed to be counting the steps it took — six Steps for the length, two steps for the width, six steps for the length again, and two more for the width.
    “For such a big bird he takes awfully small steps,” said Bill.
    “And look how his little black coat drags behind. It almost looks as if it were too big for him,” said Janie.
    But the penguin was tired of marching. This time, when it got to the end of the tub, it decided to jump up the slippery curve. Then it turned, and with outstretched flippers, tobogganed down on its white stomach. They could see that those flippers, which were black on the outside, like the sleeves of a tailcoat, were white underneath.
    “ Gook! Goo k!” said the penguin, trying its new game again and again.
    “What’s his name, Papa?” asked Janie.
    “ Gook! Gook!” said the penguin, sliding down once more on his glossy white stomach.
    “It sounds something like ‘Cook,’ ” said Mr. Popper. “Why, that’s it, of course. We’ll call him Cook — Captain Cook.”
     

Chapter IV

Captain Cook
     
    ALL WHO Captain Cook?” asked Mrs. Popper, who had come in so quietly that none of them had heard her.
    “Why, the penguin,” said Mr. Popper. “I was just saying,” he went on, as Mrs. Popper sat down suddenly on the floor to recover from her surprise, “that we’d name him after Captain Cook. He was a famous English explorer who lived about the time of the American Revolution. He sailed all over where no one had ever been before. He didn’t actually get to the South Pole, of course, but he made a lot of important scientific discoveries about the Antarctic regions. He was a brave man and a kind leader. So I think Captain Cook would be a very suitable name for our penguin here.“
    “Well, I never!” said Mrs. Popper.
    “Gork!” said Captain Cook, suddenly getting lively again. With a flap of his flippers he jumped from the tub to the washstand, and stood there for a minute surveying the floor. Then he jumped down, walked over to Mrs. Popper, and began to peck her ankle.
    “Stop him, Papa!” screamed Mrs. Popper, retreating into the hallway with Captain Cook after her, and Mr. Popper and the children following. In the living room she paused. So did Captain Cook, for he was delighted with the room.

    Now a penguin may look very strange in a living room, but a living room looks very strange to a penguin. Even Mrs. Popper had to smile as they watched Captain Cook, with the light of curiosity in his excited circular eyes, and his black tailcoat dragging pompously behind his little pinkish feet, strut from one upholstered chair to another, pecking at each to see what it was made of. Then he turned suddenly and marched out to the kitchen.
    “Maybe he’s hungry,” said Janie.
    Captain Cook immediately marched up to the refrigerator.
    “Gork?” he inquired, turning to slant his head wisely at Mrs. Popper, and looking at her pleadingly with his right eye.
    “He certainly is cute,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to forgive him for biting my ankle. He probably only did it out of curiosity. Anyway, he’s a nice clean-looking bird.”
    “ Ork? ” repeated the penguin, nibbling at the metal handle of the refrigerator door with his upstretched