The House in Town

"I never should, to look in her face," said Matilda laughing. "Tigers certainly are wicked. But, they do not know any better. How can it be wickedness?"

"Now come, Pink," said Norton; "we have got to be home by one, you know, and there's a fellow you haven't seen yet; the hippopotamus. We must go into another place to see him."

He was by himself, in a separate room, as Norton had said, where a large tank was prepared and filled with water for his accommodation. Matilda looked at him a long time in silence and with great attention.

"Do you know, Norton," she said, "this is the behemoth the Bible speaks about?"

"I don't know at all," said Norton. "How do you know?"

"Mr. Richmond says so; he says people have found out that it is so. But he don't seem to me very big, Norton, for that."

The keeper explained, that the animal was a young one and but half grown.

"How tremendously ugly he is!" said Norton.

"And what a wonderful number of different animals there are in the world," said Matilda. "This is unlike anything I ever saw. I wonder why there are such a number?"

"And so many of them not good for anything," said Norton.

"Oh Norton, you can't say that, you know."

"Why not? This fellow, for instance; what is he good for?"

"I don't know; and you don't know. But that's just it, Norton. You don't know."

"Well, what are lions and tigers good for?" said Norton. "I suppose we know about them. What are they good for?"

"Why Norton, I can't tell," said Matilda. "I would very much like to know. But they must be good for something."

"To eat up people, and make the places where they live a terror," said Norton.

"I don't know," said Matilda, with a very puzzled look on her little face. "It seems so strange, when you think of it. And those great serpents, Norton, that live where the lions and tigers live; they are worse yet."

"Little and big," said Norton. "I do despise a snake!"

"And crocodiles," said Matilda. "And wolves, and bears. I wonder if the Bible tells anything about it."

"The Bible don't tell everything, Pink," said Norton laughing.

"No, but I remember now what it does say," said Matilda. "It says that God saw everything that he had made, and it was very good."

Norton looked with a funny look at his little companion, amused and yet with a kind of admiration mixed with his amusement.

"I wonder how you and David would get along," he remarked. "He is as touchy on that subject as you are."

"What subject?" said Matilda. "The Bible?"

"The Old Testament. The Jewish Scriptures. Not the New! Don't ever bring up the New Testament to him, Pink, unless you want stormy weather."

"Is he bad-tempered?" Matilda asked curiously.

"He's Jewish-tempered," said Norton. "He has his own way of looking at things, and he don't like yours. I mean, anybody's but his own. What a quantity it must take to feed this enormous creature!"

"You may take your affidavit of that!" said the keeper, who was an Irishman. "Faith, I think he's as bad as fifty men."

"What do you give him?"

"Well, he belongs to the vegetable kingdom intirely, ye see, sir."

"He's a curious water-lily, isn't he?" said Norton low to Matilda. But that was more than either of them could stand, and they turned away and left the place to laugh. It was time then, they found, to go home.

A car was not immediately in sight when they came out into the street, and Norton and Matilda walked a few blocks rather than stand still. It had grown to be a very disagreeable day. The weather was excessively cold, and a very strong wind had risen; which now went careering along the streets, catching up all the dust of them in turn, and before letting it drop again whirling it furiously against everybody in its way. Matilda struggled along, but the dust came in thick clouds and filled her eyes and mouth and nose and lodged in all her garments. It seemed to go through everything she had on, and with the dirt came the cold. Shadywalk never saw anything like this! As they were crossing one of the streets in their way, Matilda stopped short just before setting her foot on the curb-stone. A little girl with a broom in her hand stood before her and held out her other hand for a penny. The child was ragged, and her rags were of the colour of the dust which filled everything that day; hair and face and dress were all of one hue.

"Please, a penny," she said, barring Matilda's way.

"Norton, have you got a penny?" said Matilda bewildered.

"Nonsense!" said Norton, "we can't be bothered to stop for all the street-sweepers we meet. Come on, Pink." He seized Matilda's hand, and she was drawn on, out of the little girl's range, before she could stop to think about it. Two streets further on, they crossed an avenue; and here Matilda saw two more children with brooms, a boy and a girl. This time she saw what they were about. They were sweeping the crossing clean for the feet of the passers-by. But their own feet were bare on the stones. The next minute Norton had hailed a car and he and Matilda got in. Her eyes and mouth were so full of dust and she was so cold, it was a little while before she could ask questions comfortably.

"What are those children you wouldn't let me speak to?" she said, as soon as she was a little recovered.

"Street-sweepers," said Norton. "Regular nuisances! The police ought to take them up, and shut them up."

"Why, Norton?"

"Why? why because they're such a nuisance. You can't walk a half mile without having half a dozen of them holding out their hands for pennies. A fellow can't carry his pocket full of pennies and keep it full!"

"But they sweep the streets, don't they?"

"The crossings; yes. I wish they didn't. They are an everlasting bother."

"But Norton, isn't it nice to have the crossings swept? I thought it was a great deal pleasanter than to have to go through the thick dust and dirt which was everywhere else."

"Yes, but when they come every block or two?" said Norton.

"Are there so many of them?"

"There's no end to them," said Norton.

"But at any rate, there are just as many crossings," said Matilda. "And they must be either dirty or clean."

"I can get along with the crossings," said Norton.

"Well, your boots are thick. Haven't those children any way to get a living but such a way?"

"Of course not, or they wouldn't do that, I suppose."

"But their feet were bare, Norton; they were bare, on those cold dirty stones."