“Best wishes of the festive season, William,” she murmured.
William looked at her scornfully.
“All right,” he murmured.
However, his opinion of her rose the next morning.
“I’d like to give you some treat, William dear,” she said at breakfast, “to mark the festive season—something quiet and orderly—as I don’t approve of merry-making.”
William looked at her kind, weak face, with the spectacles and scraped-back hair, and sighed. He thought that Aunt Jane would be enough to dispel the hilarity of any treat. Great-Aunt Jane’s father had been a Plymouth Brother, and Great-Aunt Jane had been brought up to disbelieve in pleasure except as a potent aid of the devil.
William asked for a day in which to choose the treat. He discussed it with his friends.
“Well,” advised Ginger, “you jolly well oughter choose something she can’t muck up like when my aunt took me to a messy ole museum and showed me stones and things—no animals nor nuffin’.”
“What about the Zoo?” said Henry.
The Zoo was suggested to Great-Aunt Jane, but she shuddered slightly. “I don’t think I could,” she said. “It’s so dangerous, I always feel. Those bars look so fragile. I should never forgive myself if little William were mangled by wild beasts when in my care.”