“Then off you go!” and, Rustle!  Rustle!  Rustle!

Gwendolyn whirled.  This was the moment, if ever, to make her wish known—­to assert her will.  With a running patter of slippers, she cut off Miss Royle’s progress.

“That tall building ’way, ’way down on the sky,” she panted.

“Yes, dear?”—­with a simper.

“Is that where my father is?”

The smirk went.  Miss Royle stared down.  “Er—­why?” she asked.

“’Cause”—­the other’s look was met squarely—­“’cause I’m going down there to see him.”

“Ah!” breathed the governess.

“I’m going to-day,” went on Gwendolyn, passionately.  “I want to!” Her lips trembled.  “There’s something—­”

“Something you want to tell him, dear?”—­purringly.

Confusion followed boldness.  Gwendolyn dropped her chin, and made reply with an inarticulate murmur.

“Hm!” coughed Miss Royle. (Her hms invariably prepared the way for important pronouncements.)

Gwendolyn waited—­for all the familiar arguments:  I can’t let you go until you’re sent for, dear; Your papa doesn’t want to be bothered; and, This is probably his busy day.

Instead, “Has anyone ever told you about that street, Gwennie?”

“No,”—­still with lowered glance.

“Well, I wouldn’t go down into it if I were you.”  The tone was full of hidden meaning.

There was a moment’s pause.  Then, “Why not?” asked Gwendolyn, back against the door.  The question was put as a challenge.  She did not expect an answer.

An answer came, however.  “Well, I’ll tell you:  The street is full of—­bears.”

Gwendolyn caught her hands together in a nervous grasp.  All her life she had heard about bears—­and never any good of them.  According to Miss Royle and Jane, these dread animals—­who existed in all colors, and in nearly all climes—­made it their special office to eat up little girls who disobeyed.  She knew where several of the beasts were harbored—­in cages at the Zoo, from where they sallied at the summons of outraged nurses and governesses.

But as to their being Down-Town—!

She lifted a face tense with earnestness “Is it true?” she asked hoarsely.

“My dear,” said Miss Royle, gently reproving, “ask anybody.”

Gwendolyn reflected.  Thomas was freely given to exaggeration.  Jane, at times, resorted to bald falsehood.  But Gwendolyn had never found reason to doubt Miss Royle.

She moved aside.

The governess turned to the school-room mirror to take a peep at her poke, and slung the chain of her hand-bag across her arm.  Then, “I’ll be home early,” she said pleasantly.  And went out by the door leading into the nursery.

Bears!

Gwendolyn stood bewildered.  Oh, why were the Zoo bears in her father’s street?  Did it mean that he was in danger?