First there was a long, bewildering street, full of noises and lights that stunned and blinded the little Prince. For a moment he hid his head in the folds of Bob’s jacket, and felt like whimpering at the bigness of things. He himself was so small and new, and all this must have been there before he came. He would certainly have to run to catch up. Well, running was fun. He straightened up, settled himself comfortably, and prepared to enjoy real living, no matter what happened.
People who passed looked admiringly at the uplifted, bobbing brown head, and the wide-open, beautiful eyes that were awake to everything. Some even stopped and patted him. He barked joyously in response, and turned to fresh adventures.
And they came. Out of the street they turned into a bigger and wider one. Then there opened out in front of them a great square place,—a place with houses all around, and a roof very different from that in the studio. It was soft and dark and green, and it waved and rustled in the night breeze. There were many twinkling lights, and many, many people. Some were moving swiftly, some slowly. Others were gossiping or nodding on benches. It was all very wonderful.
Then, most astonishing of all, Van’s four little paws were set down on a fuzzy, wet, cold carpet; and he stood alone in the very middle of the whole wide world. Bob and Billy were simply bystanders; no hand was upon him to restrain him; all this was his,—the trees, the lights, and the starry dome above. Life began to unfold.
Afraid? Not he! He started at once on a voyage of discovery. There were children there—the first he had ever seen. They beckoned and called to him, and he trotted to them. They chased him and he scampered after them, barking at their heels. He explored the grass-plots and a pansy bed; he looked wonderingly at the fountain that rose and fell with a throb of hidden power,—always falling and yet always there; at the round basin of water that was like nothing so much as a giant milk dish.
Then he started for the people who were sitting in amused groups on the benches, even the sleepy ones waking up to watch the dainty little sprite.
“I’ll bet it’s his first night out,” said one fat old man who had been reading a newspaper under an electric light, “but he’s game to his ear-tips.”
“He’s a sport, all right,” said another. “See him go for that cross old woman over the walk!”
The cross old woman looked down to see a small brown and white puppy sitting confidingly on the edge of her faded skirt. She made a movement as if to jerk it away, looked again, then stooped and patted the winsome little head. Van seemed friendly. She stooped and picked him up, and for a moment held him to her bosom, where nothing had lain since the days when her hair was brown and her cheek smooth and rosy. He looked into her eyes with his soft young brown ones, and all the bitter hardness faded out of her face, as his delicate tongue flashed across the tip of her nose. Then he gently nipped her hand, and struggled to be off on fresh voyages of discovery.
Bob called to him, but he glanced at him defiantly, and ran in the other direction. The fat man moved off down the walk, saying to others as he went: