"Oh, no," both children affirmed, "we like being with you much best." John's gratification was suddenly darkened by the suspicion that perhaps Eleanor had told them to flatter him like this; he turned swiftly aside to hide the chagrin that such a thought gave him, and when he spoke again it was almost roughly, because in addition to being suspicious of their sincerity he was vexed with himself for displaying a spirit of competitive affection. It occurred to him that it was jealousy rather than love which made the world go round--a dangerous reflection for a romantic playwright. "I'm afraid it can't be helped," he said. "To-morrow is definitely our last day. So choose your own method of celebrating it without dressing up." "Oh, we only dress up on Sundays," Viola said, loftily. "I vote we go to the Zoo," Bertram opinionated after a weighty pause. Had his nephew Harold suggested a visit to the Zoo, John would have shunned the proposal with horror; but with Bertram and Viola the prospect of such an expedition was positively enticing. "I must beware of favoritism," John warned himself. "Yes, and I must beware of being blarneyed." Then aloud he added: "Very well, we will visit the Zoo immediately after lunch to-morrow." "Oh, but we must go in the morning," Bertram cried. "There won't be nearly time to see everything in the afternoon." "What about our food?" "We can eat there." "But, my dear boy," John said. "You are confusing us with the lions. I much doubt if a human being _can_ eat at the Zoo, unless he has a passion for peanuts and stale buns, which I have not." "I swear you can," Bertram maintained. "Anyhow, I know you can get ices there in the summer." "We'll risk it," John declared, adventurously; and the children echoed his enthusiasm with joy. "We must see the toucans this time," Bertram announced in a grave voice, "and last time we missed the zebu." "I shouldn't have thought that possible," John demurred, "with all those stripes." "Not the zebra," Bertram severely corrected him. "The zebu." "Never heard of the beast," John said. "I say, V," Bertram exclaimed, incredulously. "He's never heard of the zebu." Viola was too much shocked by her uncle's ignorance to do more than smile sadly. "We'll show it you to-morrow," Bertram promised. "Thanks very much. I shall enjoy meeting the zebu," John admitted, humbly. "And any other friends of yours in the animal world whose names begin with Z." "And we also missed the ichneumon," Viola reminded her brother. "Your last visit seems to have been full of broken appointments. It's just as well you're going again to-morrow. You'll be able to explain that it wasn't your fault." "No, it wasn't," said Bertram, bitterly. "It was Miss Coldwell's." "Yes," said Viola. "She simply tore past everything. And when Bertram gave the chimpanzee a brown marble instead of a nut and he nearly broke one of his teeth, she said it was cruel."