Part 9 (2/2)
And yet, full of temptations and of misery as I believe the career of a circus performer to be, I am entertained and instructed by neighbor Robbins' recital of his exploits and experiences, and I am deeply stirred by his narrative of the adventures he had in the capture of those same wild beasts which now embellish his expansive estate in Clarendon Avenue. Indeed, a peculiar interest is now attached by me to each particular beast, for I have heard Mr. Robbins tell how in their native jungles or on their native pampas or in their native lagoons or among their native rocky fastnesses he sought and found and comprehended the lemurs, the bisons, the alligators, the rackaboars, and the other marvels of zoology.
It is very pleasant, I can a.s.sure you, to listen to tales of adventure while one is engaged at the somewhat prosaic task of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g a lilac bush or of weeding the pansy bed. Whenever he discovers me at this kind of toil neighbor Robbins comes over and leans up against a tree and beguiles the tedium of labor with a bit of personal experience. I can't begin to tell you how attached I have already become to Mr.
Robbins. I have already made up my mind that when his own front lawn gets pretty well cleaned out I shall ask neighbor Robbins to pasture his sacred cow, horned horse, and five-legged calf in our front yard for a spell.
I shall never forget the shock I had one afternoon while Mr. Robbins and I were visiting on our front lawn. I had been pruning one of the poplars and Mr. Robbins was telling me of the difficulty Professor Rufus Botts and he had once had trying to teach the wild man of Borneo to eat olives and anchovy paste. Suddenly I saw a strange object pa.s.s up the street on a bicycle. I had never seen the like before. My acquaintance with Burr Robbins' menagerie had made me familiar with most of the curious forms of animal life, but never before had I seen so remarkable an object as I beheld upon that bicycle.
”Look there! Look quick!” said I to neighbor Robbins. ”It is going up the street and it has wheels under it!”
”Where?” asked Mr. Robbins; ”I don't see anything.”
”Yes, you do,” said I; ”I mean the queer thing on the bicycle--can it be one of your trained animals that has got away?”
”Bless your soul, man,” answered Mr. Robbins, ”that's not an animal!
That's a woman!”
”Oh, no, it is n't,” said I. ”No woman ever dressed like that.”
”No woman ever dressed like that?” echoed Mr. Robbins, with a mocking laugh; ”why, neighbor Baker, where have you been hiding so long that you 're so behind the times?”
”I 've not been hiding at all,” said I, indignantly. ”I 've been living in Evanston Avenue, and a very worthy locality it is, too!”
”And do you mean to tell me,” asked Mr. Robbins, ”that women don't ride the bicycle in Evanston Avenue?”
”Of course they do,” said I, ”but they don't look like _that_! The women that ride in Evanston Avenue wear dresses, the same as other women wear. This strange object (which you declare is a woman) wears pants!”
”Those ain't pants,” said Mr. Robbins; ”those are bloomers.”
”I don't care what you call them,” said I, ”they 're pants just the same, and, what is more, very ill-fitting pants at that!”
”That,” said Mr. Robbins, ”is the new style of bicycle attire for the feminine s.e.x. Shocking as it may appear to you, it is much more ample than the costume which I found to be popular among the female bicyclists of France during my visit to that country last summer.”
”But you don't mean to tell me,” said I, ”that women make a practice of riding up and down Clarendon Avenue in pants!”
”Certainly, I do,” said Mr. Robbins. ”We do things in style over this way. Evanston Avenue is a century behind the times. Oh, you 'll learn a lot of things when you get moved over here into your new house.”
”But I 'll not stand it!” I cried. ”I 'll inform the police and I 'll have the law on these brazen creatures. What would Alice say! And what would become of f.a.n.n.y and of little Josephine if they were brought up under the demoralizing influences of spectacles like that! Do you suppose I 'm going to have Galileo and Herschel corrupted? And little Erasmus--shall his pure, innocent mind be contaminated? Never, neighbor Robbins, never!”
But Mr. Robbins did not seem to view the matter at all as I did. It was evident that his long connection with the circus had calloused the sensibility of his perceptive faculties. He was inclined to jeer at what he termed my prudishness. I was glad to be back in Evanston Avenue once more, secure in an atmosphere of propriety. It was several hours, however, before I could get my mind away from thoughts of that woman in pants, so profoundly had her appearance in that strangely abbreviated costume shocked me.
XVII
OUR DEVICES FOR ECONOMIZING
Unless you want to render yourself liable to an attack of nervous prostration you should never watch a skilful workman nailing on lath.
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