bear, I have not yet lost my womanly taste, and I don't want to be fed
all the time on buns. If anybody asks you what you think I'd like,
tell them that an occasional _omelette soufflee_, or an oyster pate,
or a platter of _petits fours_ would please me greatly."

"I shall do it, Callisto," said the keeper, as he started to move
away. "Meanwhile, here's a stick of chewing-gum for you." Callisto
received it with a manifestation of delight which moved me greatly,
and I bethought myself of the magic properties of my coat, and
plunging my hand into its capacious pockets, I found there an oyster
pate that made my mouth water, and an _omelette soufflee_ that looked
as if it had been made by a Parisian milliner, it was so dainty.

"If madam will permit me," said I, with a bow to Callisto.

"Thank you kindly," the bear replied, in that same thrillingly sweet
voice, and dancing with joy. "You are a dear, good man, and if you
ever have an enemy, let me know and I'll hug him to death."

As we again turned to go, Cephalus laughed. "Queer case that!" he
said. "You'd have thought Juno would let up on that poor woman, but
she doesn't for a little bit."

"Well--a jealous woman, my dear Cephalus--"

"True," said he. "That's all true enough, but, great Heavens, man,
Juno ought to be used to it by this time with a husband like Jupiter.
She's overstocked this Zoo a dozen times already with her jealous
freaks, and Jupiter hasn't reformed once. What good does it do?"

"Doesn't she ever let 'em off?" I asked. "Doesn't Callisto ever have a
Sunday out, for instance?"

"Yes, but always as a bear, and the poor creature doesn't dare take
her chance with the other wild beasts--the real ones. She's just as
afraid of bears as she ever was, and if she sees a plain, every-day
cow coming towards her, she runs shrieking back to her pit again."

"Poor Callisto," said I. "And Actaeon? How about him?"

"He's here--but he's a holy terror," replied Cephalus, shaking his
head. "He gets loose once in a while, and then everybody has to look
out for himself, and frankly," Cephalus added, his voice sinking to a
whisper, "I don't blame him. Diana treated him horribly."

"I always thought so," said I. "He really wasn't to blame."

"Certainly not," observed Cephalus. "If people will go in swimming
out-of-doors, it's their own fault if chance wayfarers stumble upon
them. To turn a man into a stag and then set his own dogs on him for a
thing he couldn't