Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Ask him yerself," retorted Patrick. He had quite intended to accost a
large policeman, who would of course recognize and revere the buttons of
Mr. Brennan _pere_, but a commander cannot well accept the advice of his
subordinates. But Nathan was once more beyond the power of speech, and
it was Morris Mogilewsky who asked for and obtained permission to walk
on God's green earth. With little spurts of running and tentative jumps
to test its spring, they crossed Peacock Lawn to the grateful shade of
the trees at its further edge and there disposed themselves upon the
ground and ate their luncheon. Nathan Spiderwitz waited until Sadie had
finished and then entrusted the five gleaming pennies to her care while
he wildly bolted an appetizing combination of dark brown bread and
uncooked eel.
Becky reposed flat upon the chatelaine bag and waved her still damp
shoes exultantly. Eva lay, face downward beside her, and peered
wonderingly deep into the roots of things.
"Don't it smells nice!" she gloated. "Don't it looks nice! My, ain't we
havin' the party-time!"
"Don't mention it," said Patrick, in careful imitation of his mother's
hostess manner. "I'm pleased to see you, I'm sure."
"The Central Park is awful pretty," Sadie soliloquized as she lay on her
back and watched the waving branches and blue sky far above. "Awful
pretty! I likes we should live here all the time."
"Well," began Ignatius Aloysius Diamantstein, in slight disparagement of
his rival's powers as a cicerone; "well, I ain't seen no lions, nor no
rubber-neck-boat-birds. Und we ain't had no rides on nothings. Und I
ain't heard no hollers neither."
As if in answer to this criticism there arose, upon the road beyond the
trees, a snorting, panting noise, growing momentarily louder and
culminating, just as East Side nerves were strained to breaking point,
in a long hoarse and terrifying yell. There was a flash of red, a cloud
of dust, three other toots of agony, and the thing was gone. Gone, too,
were the explorers and gone their peaceful rest. To a distant end of the
field they flew, led by the panic-stricken chaperon, and followed by Eva
and Patrick, hand in hand, he making show of bravery he was far from
feeling, and she frankly terrified. In a secluded corner, near the
restaurant, the chaperon was run to earth by her breathless charges:
"I seen the lion," she panted over and over. "I seen the fierce, big red
lion, und I don't know where is my mamma."
Patrick saw that one of the attractions had failed to attract, so he
tried another.
"Le's go an' see the cows," he proposed. "Don't you know the po'try
piece Miss Bailey learned us about cows?"
Again the emotional chaperon interrupted. "I'm loving much mit Miss
Bailey, too," she wailed. "Und I don't know where is she neither." But
the pride of learning upheld the others and they chanted in sing-song
chorus, swaying rhythmically the while from leg to leg:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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