precious! No one must swim in water that is to be drunk, you
must know that. Now we'll go back to our carriage, or the driver will
be tired of waiting."

When they came to the menagerie and the monkey house, Mrs. Horton
decided not to keep the carriage standing. She did not know how long
they would be, and she knew that they could easily get back to the
street and car lines again. She paid the driver and he drove off,
whistling merrily.

"Let's see the bears, first," suggested Sunny Boy.

And they did. Sunny Boy pressed so close to the cages of the animals
that his mother pulled him back repeatedly. They saw lions and tigers
and bears and elephants and more queer and curious animals than Sunny
Boy dreamed existed.

"I like the bears best," he told Mother, as they came away. "The polar
bear looked just like our fur rug at home. And he had cakes of ice to
sleep on."

"That is because he is used to cold weather," explained Mrs. Horton.
"The polar bear isn't well or happy unless his den is nice and cold."

In the monkey house Sunny Boy was fascinated by one little black-faced
monkey that kept running up to the top of his cage, swinging across,
and then hanging by his tail at the other end before he dropped with a
bang that would shake any one else's teeth loose.

"Doesn't he get a headache?" asked Sunny Boy aloud.

A boy who had been standing with his nose pressed against the cage
bars, a rather shabby-looking boy with big holes in his tan stockings,
answered without turning around.

"He's been doing that for the last hour," said the boy. "I think some
one was mean to him early this morning and he is just mad."

Sunny moved closer to the other boy.

"You _are_ Joe Brown, aren't you?" he asked, puzzled.

The boy turned sharply, and they saw that it was Joe Brown. A shabbier
Joe Brown than he had been on the train, and with a pinched hungry
look on his face that went to Mrs. Horton's heart.

"Did you find your aunt, Joe?" she asked kindly. "And do you like New
York?"

Joe snatched off his cap awkwardly when Mrs. Horton spoke to him, and
he tried to stuff it into his pocket now as he shuffled his feet and
mumbled that he liked New York pretty well. Plainly he was not
comfortable.

"Aunt Annabell moved away," he explained. "I went to the house, but
Italians were living in it and they didn't know where she'd moved to.
But I guess I can find her. Folks don't drop out of sight in New
York."

"But where are y