The house at Pooh Corner

THE HOUSE AT POOH CORNER BY A. A. MILNE _with decorations by Ernest H. Shepard_ PUBLISHED BY E. P. DUTTON & CO., INC., NEW YORK THE HOUSE AT POOH CORNER COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY E. P. DUTTON & CO., INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED PRINTED IN U. S. A. First Printing September, 1928 100th Printing December, 1936 139th Printing July, 1949 Reprinted, from new plates and engravings and type entirely reset August, 1950 141st Printing September, 1951 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE AMERICAN BOOK-STRATFORD PRESS, INC., NEW YORK DEDICATION _You gave me Christopher Robin, and then You breathed new life in Pooh. Whatever of each has left my pen Goes homing back to you. My book is ready, and comes to greet The mother it longs to see-- It would be my present to you, my sweet, If it weren't your gift to me._ _Contradiction_ An introduction is to introduce people, but Christopher Robin and his friends, who have already been introduced to you, are now going to say Good-bye. So this is the opposite. When we asked Pooh what the opposite of an Introduction was, he said "The what of a what?" which didn't help us as much as we had hoped, but luckily Owl kept his head and told us that the opposite of an Introduction, my dear Pooh, was a Contradiction; and, as he is very good at long words, I am sure that that's what it is. Why we are having a Contradiction is because last week when Christopher Robin said to me, "What about that story you were going to tell me about what happened to Pooh when----" I happened to say very quickly, "What about nine times a hundred and seven?" And when we had done that one, we had one about cows going through a gate at two a minute, and there are three hundred in the field, so how many are left after an hour and a half? We find these very exciting, and when we have been excited quite enough, we curl up and go to sleep ... and Pooh, sitting wakeful a little longer on his chair by our pillow, thinks Grand Thoughts to himself about Nothing, until he, too, closes his eyes and nods his head, and follows us on tip-toe into the Forest. There, still, we have magic adventures, more wonderful than any I have told you about; but now, when we wake up in the morning, they are gone before we can catch hold of them. How did the last one begin? "One day when Pooh was walking in the Forest, there were one hundred and seven cows on a gate...." No, you see, we have lost it. It was the best, I think. Well, here are some of the other ones, all that we shall remember now. But, of course, it isn't really Good-bye, because the Forest will always be there ... and anybody who is Friendly with Bears can find it. A. A. M. _Contents_ I. IN WHICH _A House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore_ II. IN WHICH _Tigger Comes to the Forest and Has Breakfast_ III. IN WHICH _A Search Is Organized, and Piglet Nearly Meets the Heffalump Again_ IV. IN WHICH _It Is Shown That Tiggers Don't Climb Trees_ V. IN WHICH _Rabbit Has a Busy Day, and We Learn What Christopher Robin Does in the Mornings_ VI. IN WHICH _Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In_ VII. IN WHICH _Tigger Is Unbounced_ VIII. IN WHICH _Piglet Does a Very Grand Thing_ IX. IN WHICH _Eeyore Finds the Wolery and Owl Moves Into It_ X. IN WHICH _Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There_ THE HOUSE AT POOH CORNER CHAPTER I IN WHICH _A House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore_ One day when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to Piglet's house to see what Piglet was doing. It was still snowing as he stumped over the white forest track, and he expected to find Piglet warming his toes in front of his fire, but to his surprise he saw that the door was open, and the more he looked inside the more Piglet wasn't there. "He's out," said Pooh sadly. "That's what it is. He's not in. I shall have to go a fast Thinking Walk by myself. Bother!" But first he thought that he would knock very loudly just to make _quite_ sure ... and while he waited for Piglet not to answer, he jumped up and down to keep warm, and a hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him a Good Hum, such as is Hummed Hopefully to Others. The more it snows (Tiddely pom), The more it goes (Tiddely pom), The more it goes (Tiddely pom), On snowing. And nobody knows (Tiddely pom), How cold my toes (Tiddely pom), How cold my toes (Tiddely pom), Are growing. "So what I'll do," said Pooh, "is I'll do this. I'll just go home first and see what the time is, and perhaps I'll put a muffler round my neck, and then I'll go and see Eeyore and sing it to him." He hurried back to his own house; and his mind was so busy on the way with the hum that he was getting ready for Eeyore that, when he suddenly saw Piglet sitting in his best arm-chair, he could only stand there rubbing his head and wondering whose house he was in. "Hallo, Piglet," he said. "I thought you were out." "No," said Piglet, "it's you who were out, Pooh." "So it was," said Pooh. "I knew one of us was." He looked up at his clock, which had stopped at five minutes to eleven some weeks ago. "Nearly eleven o'clock," said Pooh happily. "You're just in time for a little smackerel of something," and he put his head into the cupboard. "And then we'll go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore." "Which song, Pooh?" "The one we're going to sing to Eeyore," explained Pooh. The clock was still saying five minutes to eleven when Pooh and Piglet set out on their way half an hour later. The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh's nose and sometimes it wasn't, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before. "Pooh," he said at last, and a little timidly, because he didn't want Pooh to think he was Giving In, "I was just wondering. How would it be if we went home now and _practised_ your song, and then sang it to Eeyore tomorrow--or--or the next day, when we happen to see him?" "That's a very good idea, Piglet," said Pooh. "We'll practise it now as we go along. But it's no good going home to practise it, because it's a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow." "Are you sure?" asked Piglet anxiously. "Well, you'll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. _The more it snows, tiddely pom_----" "Tiddely what?" said Piglet. "Pom," said Pooh. "I put that in to make it more hummy. _The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more_----" "Didn't you say snows?" "Yes, but that was _before_." "Before the tiddely pom?" "It was a _different_ tiddely pom," said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now. "I'll sing it to you properly and then you'll see." So he sang it again. The more it SNOWS-tiddely-pom, The more it GOES-tiddely-pom The more it GOES-tiddely-pom On Snowing. And nobody KNOWS-tiddely-pom, How cold my TOES-tiddely-pom How cold my TOES-tiddely-pom Are Growing. He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said: "Pooh," he said solemnly, "it isn't the _toes_ so much as the _ears_." By this time they were getting near Eeyore's Gloomy Place, which was where he lived, and as it was still very snowy behind Piglet's ears, and he was getting tired of it, they turned into a little pine wood, and sat down on the gate which led into it. They were out of the snow now, but it was very cold, and to keep themselves warm they sang Pooh's song right through six times, Piglet doing the tiddely-poms and Pooh doing the rest of it, and both of them thumping on the top of the gate with pieces of stick at the proper places. And in a little while they felt much warmer, and were able to talk again. "I've been thinking," said Pooh, "and what I've been thinking is this. I've been thinking about Eeyore." "What about Eeyore?" "Well, poor Eeyore has nowhere to live." "Nor he has," said Piglet. "_You_ have a house, Piglet, and I have a house, and they are very good houses. And Christopher Robin has a house, and Owl and Kanga and Rabbit have houses, and even Rabbit's friends and relations have houses or somethings, but poor Eeyore has nothing. So what I've been thinking is: Let's build him a house." "That," said Piglet, "is a Grand Idea. Where shall we build it?" "We build it here," said Pooh, "just by this wood, out of the wind, because this is where I thought of it. And we will call this Pooh Corner. And we will build an Eeyore House with sticks at Pooh Corner for Eeyore." "There was a heap of sticks on the other side of the wood," said Piglet. "I saw them. Lots and lots. All piled up." "Thank you, Piglet," said Pooh. "What you have just said will be a Great Help to us, and because of it I could call this place Poohanpiglet Corner if Pooh Corner didn't sound better, which it does, being smaller and more like a corner. Come along." So they got down off the gate and went round to the other side of the wood to fetch the sticks. * * * * * Christopher Robin had spent the morning indoors going to Africa and back, and he had just got off the boat and was wondering what it was like outside, when who should come knocking at the door but Eeyore. "Hallo, Eeyore," said Christopher Robin, as he opened the door and came out. "How are _you_?" "It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily. "So it is." "_And_ freezing." "Is it?" "Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately." "What's the matter, Eeyore?" "Nothing, Christopher Robin. Nothing important. I suppose you haven't seen a house or what-not anywhere about?" "What sort of a house?" "Just a house." "Who lives there?" "I do. At least I thought I did. But I suppose I don't. After all, we can't all have houses." "But, Eeyore, I didn't know--I always thought----" "I don't know how it is, Christopher Robin, but what with all this snow and one thing and another, not to mention icicles and such-like, it isn't so Hot in my field about three o'clock in the morning as some people think it is. It isn't Close, if you know what I mean--not so as to be uncomfortable. It isn't Stuffy. In fact, Christopher Robin," he went on in a loud whisper, "quite-between-ourselves-and-don't-tell-anybody, it's Cold." "Oh, Eeyore!"