To make amends, a pretty trick pony came out, who really could dance, and he looked as if he laughed, too. He did a number of amusing things, and the audience stopped going out. Then the monkeys set up such a shrill chatter that the people began to laugh. The lion started to roar; and it seemed as if the tigers joined the chorus. For a few moments it was a forest concert. "If only the hyena would laugh," said Jim. The girls were a little nervous. Joe had gone to get Prince. "Oh, you needn't be a mite afraid. Mr. Van Amburgh would just have thrown a cloth over his head; and in his surprise they would have had him all right in a moment. I would not have missed it for a dollar; though I wouldn't care to encounter him in his native wilds." "He did look grand surveying the audience," said Daisy. "I am so glad I could come--for everything." The Doctor put Hanny and Daisy in the buggy, as they were both so slim. Hanny hugged his arm, and said in a voice still a trifle shaky,-- "Weren't you the least bit frightened, Joe?" "Why, I never imagined there was any danger until it was over. I think so many people rather dazed Mr. Tiger." "Oh, if anything had happened to you, what should I do?" asked Daisy, with lustrous eyes. "Nothing is going to happen to me. You have been a brave girl this afternoon, and it is not the first time either." Her cheek flushed with pleasure. It was a great thing to talk over, that and the ride on the elephant. Hanny found her natural history, and she and her father read about elephants most of the evening. The days were so pleasant that the children often took Daisy out in her chair to see them at their plays. They went around to Houston Street, to the German settlement, as it was beginning to be called. Lena and Gretchen were out on their stoop with their knitting, and the baby between them. They were Lutherans, and they looked quite different from the Jews. There were still quaint old houses in Ludlow and Orchard streets,--two stories with dormer windows in the roof, and some frame cottages with struggling grass-plots. No one dreamed of the tall tenements that were to take their places, the sewing-machines that were to hum while the workers earned their scanty pittance, and swarms of children crowded the streets. Everybody had more leisure then. Some of the women sat and chatted while their little ones played about. A little girl came out of an alley way with a peculiar jerky movement, like a hop and a skip, while she kept one hand on her knee. Her hip was large, her shoulder pushed up and apparently bent over. "Hello!" she said to Hanny. "What's the matter with her?" nodding her head. "Wish't I had a cheer like that. I'd cut a great swell. My! ain't she pritty?" "She's been ill," returned Hanny. The child stared a moment and then hopped on.