"I just wish mother had wanted to be there," Charles said, as his father was opening the door with his latch-key. The light was turned low in the hall, and Mrs. Reed had gone to bed, an unprecedented step with her.
Hanny found that she couldn't spend all the Saturdays with little Stevie. She wished they were twice as long; but they always seemed shorter than any other day. Dolly came down now and then, and was just as bright and merry as ever.
But old Mr. Beekman grew more feeble, and was confined to the house most of the time. Hanny had to go down-town and visit him and Katschina. He was delighted to have her come, and Katschina purred her tenderest welcome. She was like a bit of sunshine, with her cheerful smile and her sweet, merry wisdom. She told him about the school and Daisy, their plays and songs; and they were never tired of talking about Stephen's baby. It could laugh aloud now; the reddish fuzz was falling out, and the new soft hair shone like pale gold on his pink scalp.
There were so many other friends, the Bounett cousins, and Dele Whitney, who was just as jolly as ever, with the old aunts down in Beach Street, and who declared the little girl was the sweetest thing in the world, and that some day she should just steal her, and carry her off to fairyland.
CHAPTER II
AN INTERVIEW WITH A TIGER
There came to New York in May a menagerie. A chance like this roused the children to a pitch of the wildest enthusiasm. Wonderful posters were put up. It was not considered a circus at all, but a moral and instructive show, if it did not have delightful Artemas Ward to expatiate upon it. There were a great many children who had never seen an elephant. Hanny Underhill had not.
Jim said, "There was a live lion stuffed with straw; a zebra that had fifty stripes from the tip of his nose to his tail, nary stripe alike; a laughing hyena of the desert, who could cry like a child when he was hungry, and who devoured the people who came to his assistance, thereby showing the total depravity of human nature; an elephant that could dance; and monkeys who climbed the highest trees and swung in the gentle zephyrs by the tail." The crowning point was that he had money enough saved up to go.
The celebrated lion-tamer, a Mr. Van Amburgh, was to perform with some trained animals. Oh, what a crowd there was!—most people going early so they could walk around and view the animals in their cages. There were two beautiful striped hyenas, lithe as cats, and so restless you were almost afraid they would find some loose bar and spring out at you. The two lions roared tremendously when disturbed. A great cage full of the funniest chattering monkeys, ready for nuts or cake or bits of apples, and who could swing with their heads downward and turn astonishing somersaults. Many other curious animals that we see nowadays in Central Park; but, alas! there was no Park then, and such indulgences had to be paid for.