"Thank you, my dear," said Dr. Lavendar. He took David's hand, and out
they stepped into the world! For a moment they stood still on the
sidewalk to get their breaths in the rush and jostle of the crowd that
surged along the street; a simple, happy pair--an old man in a blue
muffler and broad-brimmed felt hat, a child in a little surtout and
visored cap. David gripped Dr. Lavendar's hand tight, and looked up
into his face; its smile beaming upon all these hurrying people,
reassured the child, and he paced along beside the old gentleman in
grave content. They stopped at the first shop-window, and gazed at a
row of fish bedded in ice--beautiful iridescent mackerel, fat red
pompoms, and in the middle, in a nest of seaweed, green-black
creatures, with great claws that ended in pincers and eyes that looked
like pegs stuck into their heads. David stared, open-mouthed; then he
put a hand into his pocket.
"How much would one cost, sir?"
"I don't know," said Dr. Lavendar.
"I think I will buy one, and take it home and keep it in a cage."
At which Dr. Lavendar said gravely, that he feared the creatures would
not be happy in a cage--"And besides, people eat them, David."
David was silent; then, in a suppressed voice, he said, "Are they
happy when people eat them? I think they'd rather be in a cage; I
would hang it in my window."
But Dr. Lavendar only said, "Dear me! What have we here?" and drew him
to the next shop, at the door of which stood a wooden Indian, a
tomahawk in one hand, and a cigar-box in the other.
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