"Good gracious!" he said, "do you think I can be in the house with a roaring lion and not notice anything?"
"He happens to be hungry this morning, and nothing will keep him quiet," said the kind lady, as if she were talking of her kitten.
"Madam," screamed the infuriated Dane, "one of us is certainly going mad! When I tell you that there is a lion roaming over your house you stand there quietly and tell me that he is hungry?"
"If you will wait a moment, sir, I will explain."
"No explanation is needed, madam. If I can get out of this house alive I will meet you in some other un-lion-visited part of Boston and pay you." And he added, with great sarcasm, "He is probably a pet of yours, and your ex-boarders have furnished his meals."
Instead of being shocked at this, the gentle landlady's eyes beamed with content. "That's just it—he is a pet of mine, and he lives in the back parlor."
"The lion is here in your back parlor, and you have the face to keep boarders?" shrieked the Dane.
"My other boarders have left me."
"I should think so, and this one is going to do like-wise, and without delay"—beginning to put his things in his bag.
She said she was sorry he thought of going, but she could understand he was nervous.