enormous bedrooms, one opening into the other, and both opening by
several windows on to the verandah. Sister Anna Margaret is in one,
G. and I in the other. We have two beds, but they are drawn close
together and covered by a mosquito-curtain. Last night we went to bed
in our usual gay spirits and fell asleep. It seemed to me that we were
in the Zoo again and the tiger was fiercer than ever. It hit the bars
with its great paw, and to my horror I saw that the bars were giving.
I ran, but it was too late. The beast was out of the cage and coming
after me with great bounds. My legs went round in circles and made no
progress, as legs do in dreams; the tiger sprang--and I woke. At
first I lay quiet, too thankful to find myself in bed to think about
anything else; then I sniffed.

"Olivia?" said G. "Do you notice it?"

"What?" I asked.

"That awful smell of Zoo."

Of course that was it. I had been wondering what was the curious
smell. My first thought--an awful one--was that the tiger had actually
broken loose, tracked us home, and was now under the bed waiting to
devour us. There was nothing to hinder it but a mosquito-curtain! How
I accomplished it, paralysed as I was with terror, I know not, but I
took a flying leap and landed on G., hitting her nose with my head and
clutching wildly at her brawny arms, much developed with tennis, as my
only refuge.

She was too terrified to resent my intrusion.