"It doesn't much matter what, so long as we do it together," was my reply. "But I think I should like to go out somewhere, shouldn't you? It is going to be the perfection of weather."
"Oh, we'll go out, of course. We'll have a day's sight-seeing, and our lunch in town. Let's see"—we studied the "Amusements" column, as we had so often seen the children do—"there's the Cyclorama; we have never seen the Cyclorama yet, and I'm told it's splendid."
"And it is years since we were at the Picture Gallery," I remarked. "There must be dozens of pictures there that we have never seen."
"We might go to the Zoölogical Gardens. If there was one thing more than another that I was fond of as a boy it was a wild beast show. They feed them at four o'clock."
"Yes, and the seals at the Aquarium too. I remember seeing the seals fed at Exhibition time. It was most interesting."
"And they've got Deeming at the Waxworks, Harry says——"
"Oh, Tom—waxworks! However, I don't see why we shouldn't go to waxworks if we feel inclined. We are free agents. There is nobody to criticise us now."
I began to feel that it was really almost a relief to be without the children, just for once in a way. Children are so dreadfully severe and proper in their views of what fathers and mothers ought to do.
"Well, go and get your things on," said my husband, "while I have a look round outside."
He dashed off to see that pigs and fowls were fed, and the boy started on his day's work; and I ran into the kitchen to tell Jane not to cook anything, and upstairs to change my dress and put on my best bonnet. In our haste to make the most of our holiday, we frisked about like young dogs let off the chain. It did not matter how undignified it looked, since there was nobody to laugh at us.