“You must be very courageous,” said Pen, who did not know that the wild beasts were confined in cages.
Neither Eleanor nor Harry Carver thought it worth while to enlighten Pen with regard to this particular; on the contrary, they determined to keep it to themselves. It was nice to have a little girl like Pen looking at them with awe.
“It isn’t everybody who can go to the Zoo,” proceeded Harry. “There are people that the wild beasts don’t ever care to touch. Nellie and I are that sort; we’re made that way. We walk about amongst them; we stroke them and pet them. I often sit on the neck of a lion, and quite enjoy myself.”
“My pet beast for a ride is a panther,” said Nellie, her eyes sparkling with fun at her own delicious ideas; “but most children can never ride on lions and panthers.”
“I don’t believe you ride on them,” said Pen. “You don’t look half brave enough for that.”
“Why don’t you think us brave?” asked Harry. “You are not a nice girl when you talk in that way. You wouldn’t even be brave enough to ride on the elephants. Oh, it’s very jolly for the real brave people when they go to the Zoo.”
“And is that the only place to go to in London?” asked Pen.
As she spoke she quickened her steps, for the children were now crossing the extreme end of the promontory round which was the celebrated White Bay.
“There are other places. There’s the British Museum, full of books. There are miles and miles of books in London, and miles and miles of pictures.”
“What an awful place!” said Pen, who had no love for either books or pictures. “Don’t tell me any more about it. Go on ascribing the wild animals. Is there serpents at the Zoo?”