The next morning, at four o’clock, he was awakened by a strange noise, the like of which he had never heard outside a zoological garden.  At first he thought he was still dreaming, and turned over to sleep again, but the noise repeated itself.  This time it seemed to come from under his bed, and sounded like a lion’s roar.  Probably a circus had passed and a lion had got loose and was prowling about, seeking what he could devour!  He thought of ringing up the house, but demurred, reflecting that whoever answered the bell would probably be the first victim.  Again the roar!  Fear overcame his humane impulses; he rang, hoping that if the lion’s appetite was appeased by the first victim, he might be spared.

The landlady appeared in the flesh, calmly and quietly.  “Did you ring, sir?” she asked, placidly.

“I did indeed,” he answered.  “Will you kindly tell me whether I am awake or asleep?  It seems to me that I heard the roar of a lion.  Did no one else hear it?”

The landlady hesitated, embarrassed, and answered, “I did, sir—­you and I are the only persons in the house.”

“Then the lion is waiting for us?” he said, quaking in his slippers.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” the woman answered.  “I had hoped that you had not noticed anything—­”

“Good gracious!” he said, “do you think I can be in the house with a roaring lion and not notice anything?”

“He happens to be hungry this morning, and nothing will keep him quiet,” said the kind lady, as if she were talking of her kitten.

“Madam,” screamed the infuriated Dane, “one of us is certainly going mad!  When I tell you that there is a lion roaming over your house you stand there quietly and tell me that he is hungry?”

“If you will wait a moment, sir, I will explain.”

“No explanation is needed, madam.  If I can get out of this house alive I will meet you in some other un-lion-visited part of Boston and pay you.”  And he added, with great sarcasm, “He is probably a pet of yours, and your ex-boarders have furnished his meals.”

Instead of being shocked at this, the gentle landlady’s eyes beamed with content.  “That’s just it—­he is a pet of mine, and he lives in the back parlor.”

“The lion is here in your back parlor, and you have the face to keep boarders?” shrieked the Dane.

“My other boarders have left me.”

“I should think so, and this one is going to do like-wise, and without delay”—­beginning to put his things in his bag.

She said she was sorry he thought of going, but she could understand he was nervous.

Nervous!  If he could have given his feelings words he would have said that never in all his life had he been so scared.

The meek lady before him watched him while he was making up his packages and his mind.  What he made up was his reluctance to flee from danger and leave the lion-hearted little woman alone.