"Of course, if you like. But you're not old, you're quite young; at least you're just as jolly as if you were. But come, or we will be late for the Zoo." "Wait," said Mr Hancock; "there is lots of time for the Zoo. Now look at the window and buy yourself a present." "I'll buy that," said Miss Lambert promptly, pointing to a little watch crusted with brilliants. Mr Hancock noted the watch and the name and number of the shop, and they passed on. Mr Hancock found that progress with such a companion in Oxford Street was a slow affair. The extraordinary fascination exercised by the shops upon his charge astonished him; everything seemed to interest her, even churns. The normal state of her brain seemed only comparable to that of a person's who is recovering from an illness. It was after twelve when they reached Mudie's library. "Now," said Mr Hancock, pausing and resting on his umbrella, "I am rather perplexed." "What about?" "Luncheon. If we take a cab to the Zoo now, we will have to lunch there or in the neighbourhood. I do not know whether they provide luncheons at the Zoo or whether there is even a refreshment room there." "You can buy buns," said Fanny; "at least, I have a dim recollection of buns when I was there last. We bought them for the bears; but whether they were meant for people to eat, or only made on purpose for the animals, I don't know." "Just so. I think we had better defer our visit till after luncheon; but, meanwhile, what shall we do? It is now ten minutes past twelve; we cannot possibly lunch till one. Shall we explore the Museum?" "Oh! not the Museum," said Fanny; "it always takes my appetite away. I suppose it's the mummies. I'll tell you what, we will go and have ices in that café over there." They crossed to the Vienna Café, and seated themselves at a little marble table. "Father and I come here often," said Fanny, "when we are in this part of the town; we know every one here." She bowed and smiled to the lady who sits in the little glass counting house, who smiled and bowed in return. "That was Hermann--the man who went for our ices; and that's Fritz, the waiter, over there, with the bald head." She caught Fritz's eye, who smiled and bowed. "I don't see Henri--I suppose he's married; he told us he was going to get married the last time we were here, to a girl who keeps the accounts in a café in Soho, somewhere, and I promised him to send them a wedding present. He was such a nice man, like a Count in disguise; you know the sort of looking man I mean. What shall I send him?" James Hancock ran over all the wedding presents he could remember in his mind; he thought of clocks, candlesticks, silver-plated mustard pots. "Send him a--clock." "Yes, I'll send him a clock. Wait till I ask where they live." She rose and approached the lady at the counting-house; a brisk conversation ensued, the lady speaking much with her hands and eyes, which she raised alternately to heaven.