“I will not go,” he said, in the voice of an early Christain martyr.

“You see, sir, this is how it happened,” began the woman.  “A very nice sailor came to board here, but could not pay his bill, so to settle with me he offered me his pet dog.  I thought it a puppy, and as I had taken a fancy to the little thing—­he used to drink milk with the cat out of the same saucer—­I consented to keep it.”

“And he turned out to be a lion?  How did you first notice it?”

“Well, sir, I soon saw he attracted attention in the street.  He wanted to fight all the other animals, and attacked everything from a horse to a milk-pan.  It was when I was giving him a bath that I noticed that his tail was beginning to bunch out at the end and his under-jaw was growing pointed.  Then the awful thought came to me—­it was not a dog, but a lion!  This was a dreadful moment, for I loved him, and he was fond of me, and I could not part with him.  He grew and grew—­his body lengthened out and his paws became enormous, and his shaggy hair covered his head.  But it was when he tried to get up in my lap, and became angry because my lap was not big enough to hold him, that he growled so that I became afraid.  Then I had bars put up before the door of my back parlor, which was my former dining-room, and I keep him there.”

“Do you feed him yourself?”

“Yes, sir, but it takes a fortune to keep him in meat.”

“How old do you think he is?” the Dane asked, beginning now to feel a respectful admiration for the lone woman who preferred to give up boarders rather than give up her companion.

“That I do not know,” she replied, “but from his size and voice I should say he was full-grown.”

“I can vouch for his voice.  Will you show him to me?” He had never seen a lion boarding in a back parlor, and rather fancied the novelty.  He told the consul afterward that he had never seen a finer specimen of the Bengal lion.  To his mistress he was obedient and meek as a lamb.  She could do anything she liked with him; she passed her hand lovingly over his great head, caressing his tawny locks, while the lion looked at her with soft and tender eyes, and stuck out his enormous tongue to lick her hand.

The Dane stayed on, like the good man he was.  He had not the heart to deprive the little woman of the few dollars he paid for his room, which would go toward buying food for her pet.  He himself became very fond of “Leo,” and would surreptitiously spend all his spare money at the butcher’s, who must have wondered, when he sent the quarters of beef, how such a small family could consume so much—­and the Dane would pass hours feeding the lion with tidbits held on the end of his umbrella.

We were told afterward that the police discovered that the noises coming from the house were not the usual Boston east winds, and, having found out from what they proceeded, suggested that the Zoological Gardens should buy the animal, for which they paid an enormous price.  So the sailor did pay his debt, after all!