The whole house was in an uproar.

The lions were trotting round and round, stopping to listen and snuff in
the sawdust near the bars; the stumpy jaguar, black as ink, with a body
like a steel case, was rushing up and down, rubbing its forehead fiercely
as it turned; a lion and his mate were rearing themselves one after the
other against the walls, half turning from the middle to fall almost
backward in that peculiar movement which reminds one forcibly of great
succeeding waves stopped and thrown back upon themselves by some bleak
rock.

People were pushing and straining to look in at the windows, and rattling
the doors which had been hurriedly locked by the keepers who had rushed
to ascertain the cause of the tumult, whilst the tiger made the place
resound with its terrific roars as it hurled its huge weight again and
again at the bars of its cage.

"Come _on_, Mother," shouted the keeper above the din, "bring all those
children and let's get out. They'll quieten down when we've gone. Can't
you _read_!"

He shook Leonie slightly under the stress of his agitation as he hauled
her in front of the notice which commands you to refrain from climbing
the barrier.

"Of course I can wead," she replied with dignity; "I'm weading the
little----"