"Well," says she, "in some sense you are right. There will be a show of wild animals such as never roamed in field or forest, but none of them are dangerous; at any rate, in that form."
"Are they in a circus, and is there a clown with a chalky face and red patches?" says I.
"The circus!" says she, a-holding up both hands. "Why, it is to be in the Academy of Music, and the first people in the city are going."
"To see them feed?" says I.
"Well, that may be a part of it, but the principal thing is the parade."
"But where do they feed the animals—not in the boxes with red velvet cushions, I calculate?"
"Oh, how funny you are! Of course not; the supper is set out in Nilsson Hall, and is served à la carte."
"What!" says I; "do they bring in fodder by the cartload for the creatures? Now, really, Cousin E. E., there is nothing astonishing about that to a person born and bred in the country. You and I have ridden on a load of hay, piled up so high that we had to bend down our heads to keep from bumping them against the top of the barn door, when the hay went in to be put on the mow; so we need not see the same thing meached over here in York."
"Dear me!" said my cousin; "you are just the brightest and stupidest woman——"
"Young lady, if you please," says I.