The sensations, I should imagine,
are about the same."
"Oh, come, dad!" protested one of the girls, laughing, "you know it
isn't so bad as that! There's plenty of life--not just at this hour of
the morning, perhaps,"--with a fleeting glance at the empty
landscape,--"but the hour is unfashionable."
"As everything seasonable and sensible seems to be here," put in her
father, grimly.
"And such interesting life, too," added the other girl.
"Interesting! Bah! When I want to see monkeys and peacocks, I'll go to a
menagerie."
"But you never do go to the menagerie, at home, you know, dad."
"No--because I don't care for monkeys or peacocks--in fact, I
particularly detest them!"
"But lions, dad! There are lions--"
"In the menagerie at home, perhaps."
"Yes, and in this one--bigger lions than you ever dreamed of,
dad!--perfect monsters of lions!"
"Oh, no, there aren't, Susie," dissented Rushford. "You don't know the
species. You've mistaken a bray for a roar, just as a lot of people
always do, if the bray is only loud enough. Come, now, let me know the
worst. How much longer do you propose to stay here?"
"Well, dad, you see the season won't be at its height for fully a month
yet--"
"A month!" echoed Rushford, in dismay. "Well, Susie, you and Nell may be
able to stand it for a month, but long ere that I'll be dead--ossified,
fossilised, dried up, and blown away! Maybe you girls enjoy it, though I
didn't think it of you--but what can _I_ do? I'm tired of reading
day-before-yesterday's newspaper and of being two days behind the
market.
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