White knew the Crystal Palace well, and all its many attractions.
He took his party to see a show where cardboard figures were made to
walk and jump and open their eyes, just like real people.

Then he proposed that they should try throwing sticks, provided for
the purpose, at a row of penknives, and if any one knocked a knife
over it would be his. This was amusing for a little while; but when no
one could get anywhere near a knife, the boys grew tired of trying,
especially as they each had to pay a penny for three tries.

At last they arrived at the place where a man has tricycles to let
out. Every boy pulled out the rest of his money and begged for a ride.
In a few minutes half a dozen little green tricycles where whirling
round the curve.

Walter and Christopher despised the idea at first of doing what the
little boys did; but when they saw some other youths like themselves
get on, they put their pride in their pockets, and each mounted a
tricycle. How they did waggle from side to side; and how impossible it
was not to laugh and shout at the absurd feeling of the thing!

"This is rare good sport," said Chris at last.

He had but just spoken when he met Mr. White.

"It's ten minutes to one," said the latter. "We must go, or we shan't
be on the terrace as soon as the rector. Come along, boys; it's
dinner-time."

There was a general turning round of tricycles, and in a few minutes
the little party were making their way towards the palace.

"What's the matter, Chris?" asked Walter. "I thought you liked that."

"So I did; 'twas the only bit of fun I've had. It's a regular
nuisance to be at some one else's beck and call like this, just when
one _is_ getting a little pleasure. Why should we come before we want
to?"

"Why? Because it's dinner-time. Aren't you hungry? I am, I know."

Christopher grunted sulkily, but in spite of his ill-humour he managed
to get through the meat-patties and plum-pudding with a most excellent
appetite.

Dinner over, the rector proposed that every one should come with him
to see a panorama of the siege of Paris, which was to begin at three
o'clock.

"I should like it awfully. Wouldn't you, Chris?" said Walter.

"I don't know. No--it sounds dull and schoolish," replied Chris, who
was no scholar. "I won't be led about like a monkey on a chain,
either. I know best how to amuse myself, and I tell you what--I'm
going back for another ride on that tricycle. You'd better come too,
Wat.